Not So Different
by LifeBringsMeOnlyTears
Summary: I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all. Beast/OC. Now Complete.
1. Introduction

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

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><p><em>"Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in."<em> - Robert Frost

_**-Introduction-**_

I grimaced as their eyes raked over me viciously, taking in my appearance brutally. I could hear their murmurs, sense their apprehension and distrust even as I clenched my hands together in my lap. It felt as though I had been thrown to the dogs, and yet I could do nothing more than calmly sit there and wait for it to end.

"You will have to excuse my associates and students, Mackenzie." Kind gray-blue eyes met mine as I met the gaze of none other than the founder and Headmaster of the Xavier Institute. Dressed in bold and manly colors, he sat in front of the gathered mass of people, hands folded delicately in his lap. "We are still... struggling."

_I can tell_, I murmured to him telepathically, ignoring the faint smile that crossed his lips. Shoulders rim-rod straight, I let my eyes trail over the gathered group of people, taking in their faces pointedly. Several of them looked familiar, as I had met with Henry McCoy and Ororo Munroe when I had first interviewed with Xavier regarding the position. They hadn't changed much since our time together as students. The others, however, were all fairly new and left me feeling slightly uncomfortable.

"I understand, Mr. Xavier," I assured him quietly, nodding in his direction as I crossed my legs. "As you have my resume, and you've done a complete background check as well as your personal knowledge of my past, I can only hope that you, your associates, and your students will give me the benefit of the doubt when I claim that I am exceptionally trustworthy. However, I am willing to undergo any necessary examinations that you deem necessary."

"She ain't hidin' nothin', Chuck," a voice muttered from the rear of the room, drawing my gaze to where a man leaned against the open doorway. The gathered group of people seemed to nod in agreement after his statement, causing me to send the man a silent thanks even as his gaze met mine for an instant. "You already know how I feel 'bout havin' another 'path around, but I ain't complainin' 'bout no more."

**Logan is quite leery about telepaths, my dear**, Xavier's voice was warm and comforting in my mind as I glanced over and met his gaze. He spared me a soft smile before lifting a hand and pressing the toggle of his wheelchair, causing him to spin in a short circle and face the gathered group of people. **However, I must admit that your striking similarities with Jean will no doubt make this transition more difficult than necessary. If you feel as though it is too much...**

_I'll be fine_, I assured him, swallowing thickly. Perspiration beaded my upper lip and my brow despite the comfortable temperature in the room. A combination of nerves and an empty stomach left me feeling slightly off balance even as Xavier sent calming sensations over me with a mere thought. _I need this, Xavier. I need this opportunity._

"Unless there are any outright objections to Miss Benton's presence here in the Institute, I am fully prepared to offer her the position as our new physician and upper mathematics teacher," he spoke calmly, his voice billowing through the room with a force behind it that came only to those that had reined over someone for a very long time. "Anyone?"

The room was silent for a long moment before the man known as Charles Xavier clapped his hands together, eliciting a grunt of approval as I rose from the comfortable chair to stand at his side. The crowd parted on either side of us as he led me from his study, the sound of his wheelchair only slightly louder then the sounds of the faint whispers behind us.

"Welcome home, yet again, Mackenzie."

_I promise I'll try not to let you down_.


	2. Chapter One

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

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><p><em>"From small beginnings come great things."<em> - Proverb

_**-Chapter One-**_

"Are you finding everything to your liking, my pet?"

Smiling, I turned, textbook in hand, and let my eyes trail over the unusual appearance of the former Ambassador of Mutant Affairs. Despite the fact that he was quite literally covered from head to foot in blue fur (and looked a bit like an overgrown cat, if not a cuddly ape of some sort), Henry McCoy was still a kind and courteous man if our past and my first week back in the Mansion were any indication.

"The facilities here are more than I could have hoped for," I admitted with a nod, using my TK to lift a stack of textbooks off of the desk. As they hovered in front of him, a frown crossed his features momentarily, only to be replaced by a curious smile as the books finally dropped into a somewhat disorganized pile near one of the already-filled bookcases. "I'm sorry," I apologized as I placed the textbook in my hand onto the shelf next to me, ensuring that the titles remained in alphabetical order. Dusting my hands off upon my hips, I found myself eying the man nervously. "I keep forgetting that it's a bit unorthodox to use my abilities so casually."

He waved an oversized hand in my direction as he picked up a small stack of books from the large desk and positioned them atop the filing cabinet. Wordlessly, he slid a hip onto the nearly empty desk, letting his blue eyes rake over my form. "It's not that it's unorthodox, Mackenzie. It's simply that it reminds me so much of Jean." His smile, though sad, was warm. "It's only been six months; and while in a way it seems like more than enough time to accept her death, it is still hard. Some days, I venture down here expecting to have a bit of a debate with her regarding the latest in some Medical journal or other. And then— Then I remember she's simply not here."

"And for that I am sorry," I assured him, fighting the urge to reach out mentally in order to offer him a bit of calmness. It wasn't my place, I knew, and it simply wasn't right. "I knew Jean too, and I can promise you that when she sacrificed herself, she did it knowing that there was no other way. When I heard about the news..." I trailed off, blinking away tears that threatened to fall.

Surprise muffled my gasp as he crossed the room in three long-legged strides and pulled me into a tight hug. My eyes went wide as I stiffened in his embrace, relenting after a few seconds and going lax in his grasp and letting myself rest my head upon his shoulder. "It's been so long, Mac. So long."

I blinked rapidly as I nodded against his shoulder, letting myself get lost in the embrace. It wasn't often that I allowed anyone close enough to touch me in such an intimate way. "We're not students here anymore, Hank," I admitted, somewhat sadly. "That was a long time ago."

He pulled away slowly, pressing his tie back into place as he righted the lapels of his no doubt expensive jacket. "I miss those days now and then. There was nothing quite like our heated debates over cold pizza and the scotch that we managed to sneak from the Professor's private stash." A knowing smile curled his lips as he crossed the room and stood near the open door, his furry mane of hair curling around his face in a wild fashion. "Then I went off to college, and then Jean. Then you and Ororo, and even Scott and Emma. But you- you never came back. I always wondered why. We were a tightly-knit group back then, back before the real world began to hate us so much."

"I was only here for a year, Hank," I reminded him pointedly, offering him a faint smile as I walked over to the large glass cabinet. Using my TK, I lifted the set of keys off of one of the counters in the back and moved them through the air so that I could grab them. "I never really fit in, not really. Ororo and Scott were best friends, and Scott and Jean were already dating. You were like the big brother figure that everyone loved. And Emma hated my guts."

"And you were the charming, albeit shy, light of the party," he murmured, causing me to look over my shoulder at him. Deftly, I turned the key in the lock and felt the glass door swing open as I turned my attention to the carefully labeled medications that lain inside. "Jean always regretted how she treated you; how she shoved you away and made you feel foolish."

My shoulders stiffened as I wrapped my fingers around the bottle filled with clear liquid. "We were so competitive with one another," I admitted glumly. "When I came here, I already had more control over my powers than she did after so many years under Xavier's tutelage. I was young, foolish; I shoved it all in her face to make myself feel better." Replacing the medicine, I turned on my heel and faced him steadily, ignoring the bite of annoyance in the back of my head as Xavier attempted to send me a mental message. "I regretted it after, I really did. Before you ask, I even attempted to reconnect with her when we ended up as residents at the same hospital. I take it you never knew that," I murmured, lips pursed.

"After I bounded off for college, I lost contact with everyone. We usually met up for Christmas and sometimes for Easter, but..." he trailed off, thick brows bunched together in thought.

"I didn't feel right coming back here. Not after Jean and I had it out at the hospital. Don't look at me like that," I warned him softly, shaking my head and letting my dark blond locks fall over my face like a veil. "It isn't as bad as I make it sound. Trust me. We- We finally had it out and talked about it. She was adamant that she never wanted to see me again, loathed me really. And, against my better judgment, I accepted her words at face value and never came back."

"Until her funeral," he prompted.

"Until her funeral," I repeated, guilt eating at me. "I felt so stupid when I pulled up and stared at those familiar gates, Hank. All of that time- nearly ten years- had gone by and I hadn't so much as even considered visiting. I kept in contact with Xavier, though it was more out of respect than anything else. And I sat there in that crowd of strangers, strangers that had once been my friends, and I realized that I had been a fool." I crossed my arms over my chest as I hugged myself tightly, suddenly missing the warmth of his embrace. "I never truly thought that I believed in the Professor's dream. Why should I? My parents left me a large enough trust fund that I could do practically whatever I wanted. I could control my gifts, and I went on to become a doctor. I thought I was unstoppable."

He seemed torn between backing out of the door and crossing the room again for a long moment. After a short minute of silence, he slowly nodded his head. "You are here now, Mackenzie, and I for one think that's what matters most. While many years have passed, I can assure you that none of us have changed quite as much as you would think. Welcome back," he called out softly as he backed out of the room and disappeared down the silver hallway.

Limply, I let myself collapse on the ledge of the desk, my feet braced on the floor. With my hands in my lap, I let myself focus on nothing at all, and simply let my thoughts wander.

_This is the life that Jean wanted_, I reminded myself, frowning as I sighed. _Maybe you weren't so different after all_.


	3. Chapter Two

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

* * *

><p><em>"I always make an awkward bow." <em>- John Keats

_**-Chapter Two-**_

"For our next class, please complete the problems on page fifty-eight. Odd numbers only excluding thirteen," I called out as the students trickled out of the door in a flood.

My feet ached, my head was pounding, and I craved chocolate like a mad woman. Stuffing papers that needed to be graded into my bag, I slung the strap over my shoulder and hurried to the door, flicking off the light before exiting into the hallway and gently shutting the door behind me. Students swept past me in a hurry to reach the Cafeteria before the servers ran out of french fries, and I did my best to ignore the random thoughts that flickered through my mental shields

**I can't believe Mr. Summers and Mr. Logan got into a fight. Again.**

Blinking, I focused on the thought for a mere second and traced it to one of my struggling students, Jubilation Lee. Even from the back, I recognized the choppily cut short black hair, the outlandishly bright and cheerful clothing that she was known to wear. I couldn't help but smile at her retreating back as she disappeared around a corner, leaving me alone in the deserted corridor.

**Mackenzie, would you be so kind as to bring your traveling medical kit to my study? **

I nodded to myself before realizing that Xavier couldn't hear my marbles rattling about. _Of course_, I readily agreed, hurrying to the elevator that would carry me to the lower levels. I accessed the hidden panel quickly, punching in the required code before taking the elevator deep into the hidden underground of the school. After I'd retrieved my small medical kit, as well as a small bottle of aspirin from the medical cabinet, I hurried back upstairs.

**Please, come right in**, he urged me as I lifted a hand to rap against the door.

I fixed a smile upon my face as I turned the knob and stepped into the room, my dark blue eyes taking in the sight of the two men that sat opposite one another in front of Charles Xavier's desk. Dropping my bag next to an armchair, I walked forward slowly, eyes darting between the two men.

"What is it that I can do for you, Professor?" I inquired, eyes focused on the cut over Scott's left eyebrow.

"Well," Xavier began, clearing his throat gently. "It would seem that both Scott and Logan have devolved into adolescent youths, as they were locked in a heated fistfight just minutes ago. I should hope that you might be able to tend to Scott's wounds-"

"I'm fine," the man bit out, his eyes hidden behind his ever-present ruby shades. "I don't need you to treat me like a child, Professor."

"Then, by all means, please feel free to stop acting like one."

I grimaced visibly at the sigh in Xavier's voice as I walked forward quietly, ignoring Logan's probing gaze as I sat the small medical kit upon the ledge of the oversized desk. Scott tensed immediately as I unzipped the bag, folding it open and retrieving a q-tip and a tube of antibiotic ointment before grabbing him by the chin.

His jaw tightened instantly as I jerked his chin upward gently, grimacing inwardly at the obvious distrust that flickered across his features. I examined him quickly, taking in the cut over his left brow and the faint scratch on his left cheek. "Are you hurt anywhere else?" I asked quietly, dabbing at the cut with the wet q-tip.

"Got him in the side real good," Logan muttered from behind me, warranting a frown from me. He spared me a lopsided grin before I turned my attention back to Scott, forcing myself to ignore the way that he stiffened and tried to ignore my very presence. "Guessin' it's just the face that's botherin' him. Sure as hell is botherin' me."

Uncharacteristically, Scott snorted in reply. "I'll be fine, Mac," he muttered.

Brows furrowed, I dropped the q-tip in the wastebasket before pulling out a butterfly band-aid, peeling off the plastic wrapper as I pressed it to his skin quickly. "Mac, huh? You haven't called me that in a long time, Slim." He turned his head away slightly, causing me to brush my elbow against his face as I finished seeing to the band-aid. "Okay, I think you're as good as new," I murmured as I backed away, surveying his face.

He spared me a single nod before rising from the chair and stalking out of the room noisily, slamming the door behind him. I winced at the sound, ignoring the Professor's questioning presence in my mind as I turned and zipped up the small medical kit.

"What? Not gonna give me a good once-over, Doc?" Logan asked, causing me to look over at him in amusement. Forgoing the medical kit, I walked across to him and grabbed him gently by the chin, tilting his head back so that I could examine his face. "How's the mug look?"

"Not so different than before, I'm sure," I quipped, smiling warmly as I let go of his chin and took a step back, hands perched on my hips. "In the three weeks that I've been here, you two have fought like cats and dogs. Why don't you two just whip them out and measure already?"

He laughed in reply as he pushed himself up and out of the chair, quickly towering over me by nearly a foot. Hazel eyes flickered over me quickly before he shook his head. "Boy Scout's the one with a stick up his ass, darling. So, you finally coming on outta that cave you call an office for more than a meal?"

Taken aback, I glanced over at Xavier before slowly shrugging a shoulder. "I don't recall hiding from anyone, Logan," I explained, picking my words carefully. "I've simply been busy adjusting to the atmosphere here."

"Right," he drawled, the word drawn out as he slid his hands into his clearly too-tight jeans. "Well, if ya ever get bored settling on in, just lemme know. I'm sure we could find something to do with our time. Chuck," he nodded at the Professor before sauntering out of the room lazily, his gait drawing my gaze even as I blinked rapidly.

**I do believe Logan was attempting to flirt with you, my dear.**

Ignoring the sudden urge to roll my eyes, I merely lifted a hand and sent the small medical kit sailing through the air to my awaiting hand. He smiled at me, no doubt expressing the fact that he was pleased at my level of control. "I have papers to grade, Professor. I'll see you at dinner."

It wasn't until I'd gathered my bag and stepped into the hallway that I bothered to reply to his comment until the door shut behind me. _Trust me, Professor, Logan is not my type._


	4. Chapter Three

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

* * *

><p><em>"The nice thing about teamwork is that you always have others on your side." <em>- Margaret Carty

_**-Chapter Three-**_

"I don't see why you're here at all."

Gritting my teeth together, I focused on adjusting the harnesses that would keep me strapped to the chair instead of the back of Scott Summers' head. He sat in the pilot's seat, Ororo at his right; acting as co-pilot. Ever since the Professor had called us together, there had been nothing but chaos.

"Scott, need I remind you that Mac is part of the team?" Ororo asked quietly, her voice barely audible over the sounds of the Blackbird as it lifted up through the parted basketball court. "Halcyon is here at the Professor's insistence. Would it be such a chore to show her a bit more respect?"

I sent a mental thanks to the woman that had once been my friend, smiling to myself when she assured me that she was thankful for my presence. There was very little turbulence once we were out of sight of the Xavier Institute, and I found myself glancing around at the other familiar faces.

While I had approached Xavier and questioned his methods regarding his so-called Junior X-Men, he had not budged a single inch. He was of the opinion that they were all combat ready, and that it did them no harm accompanying the other X-Men on a mission that could prove to be dangerous. Shadowcat caught my eye and smiled slightly before turning her attention back to the young man, code-named Iceman, beside her.

I closed my eyes as I began to weave the familiar telepathic net that would connect us throughout the mission. Touching on each of their minds, I wove the links that would tie us together, allowing us to share our thoughts with complete and utter ease, while still allowing no one to actually _read_ anyone else's mind.

_No need to be alarmed, Wolverine_, I glanced over at the man across the aisle from me, who was already nervous about the flight itself. _I'm merely constructing the telepathic network. Surely you are all familiar with this method?_

**It's used on rare occasions**, Ororo admitted. **The Professor isn't fond of it, and prefers the communicators.**

** Woah, like, you're all in my head and stuff. This is kinda neat. Say, Wolvie, does that mean you totally saw what I was thinking about when I saw you bend over like-**

_I'm pretty sure we would all prefer not to know, Jubilee_, I assured her, frowning to myself. _I can take down the network at any given moment. If you're all more comfortable using the communicators-_

**This is fine**, Scott assured me, his voice gruff inside of my head. **I didn't realize you had this much control over your telepathy.**

** Jeannie did this a few times. Don't remember it bein' this clear, or her holdin' it all that long. Mac, darling, is that you urging me to take my uniform off and dance butt-naked on my chair? Cause, I might just-**

** Actually, I'm rather certain that was young Jubilation again, Logan. My, Jubilee, one could certainly create a number of vivid fantasies with your thoughts. Rather unbecoming, wouldn't you say? Yes, thank you. **Hank chuckled loudly as the jet sailed through the air smoothly. **I must admit I rather prefer this method. It saves time, and we do not have to chance others picking up on our radio frequency.**

The others agreed quietly as we continued toward our destinations, our thoughts shared between one another with ease. Some seemed particularly uncomfortable with the telepathic network; Scott, Logan, and Rogue in particular. But, as they voiced no actual disprovement, I chose to keep us linked. It put very little strain on me, and actually made me feel a bit more relaxed around the group of people fondly known as the X-Men.

I caught a snippet of someone's thought, blushing slightly as I looked down at my uniform. Like the others, I was garbed in a custom-tailored black leather uniform and boots. The uniform itself was entirely black save for the soft blue lining that complemented it rather well. Although I wasn't _stacked_ per se like Ororo, I knew that I wasn't exactly unattractive.

My mother had given me her thick blond hair, and I chose to keep it in stylish layers and worn down just past my shoulders. I was lean and fit, and rather in shape thanks to my demanding schedule and my belief that gym time was important. While I certainly couldn't boast that I had exquisite breasts, I certainly wasn't lacking in the department. But, I liked to think that my bright blue eyes, my charming dimples, and even my warm smile drew people to me rather than my likable figure.

_How much further?_ I inquired, glancing up to where Scott and Ororo deftly piloted the jet.

**We're nearly there,** Ororo assured me. **We'll be heading out in two teams. Colossus, Shadowcat, Iceman, and Rogue- You'll be with me. Jubilee, Beast, Wolverine, and Halcyon, you'll be with Scott. Our mission is to get inside of the facility undetected, so please use caution.**

It sounded easy enough when the Professor had suggested it in his study. He'd gathered reports that indicated that an abandoned medical facility on the east coast was using its resources in order to experiment on mutant runaways. It was sick, disgusting, and left us all ready to do whatever was necessary in order to save as many lives as possible. Xavier insisted that the facility was guarded by no less than twenty armed men, but assured us that we were more than capable of succeeding.

As we grew closer and closer to the target, I could not help but hope that he was right.


	5. Chapter Four

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

* * *

><p><em>"The led must not be compelled, they must be able to choose their own leader." <em>- Albert Einstein

_**-Chapter Four-**_

We moved in low and quiet, Wolverine taking the lead simply because his senses would alert us to any enemies before they had a chance to spot us. Jubilee followed close behind him, claiming that she was his new sidekick. Beast bounded around us, swinging through the trees that fell over the facility's outer walls and using the crumbling brick walls themselves to catapult himself every which direction. Cyclops brought up the rear, his hand on his visor and his steps heavy and true.

**We've found an entryway from the roof access**, Colossus murmured, his Russian accent thick even in my mind. **Yet to come across any guards, comrades. **

I paused behind Jubilee as she crouched next to Wolverine, who stood with his arms at his sides, his gloved fingers balled into fists. Eyes narrowed, I scanned the vicinity, but found no mental signatures. Frowning, I shook my head as Cyclops tilted his head in my direction, his nod barely perceptible as he stepped past me in order to eye the wrought iron gate that Wolverine stared at.

_I'm not picking up any mental signatures. At all._

**Not smellin' nothin' but the gum Firecracker here's chewin', and maybe some stale musk. Ain't nothin' here.**

I thought back to Xavier's adamant insistence that there was indeed something malicious going on at the facility, and found myself frowning. I knew that he would not have sent his X-Men, me included, on a wild goose chase.

I let my mind wander again, eyes narrowed slightly as I focused on the task at hand. A startled gasp left my lips as I tipped to the side, my gloved hand scraping against the brick wall as I struggled to keep my balance. Blinking rapidly, I shrugged Cyclops' steadying hand away and cleared my throat gently.

_I picked something- No- someone up. There's a telepath, probably two, cloaking this place. As a precaution, I'd already shielded us mentally before we landed, so I do not think they even realize that we're here._

There was absolute silence for a long moment as I glanced up at Cyclops, eyes quickly swiveling to where Beast sat perched atop a partially crumbled statue of the facility's founder.

**Can you contact the Professor and let him know that we need him to standby with Cerebro, Mac?**

The nickname, given long ago by the very same man that often refused to even meet my gaze, caused me to stare at him in confusion for a long moment before I shook my head. _For what?_

**To take out the telepaths, or at least distract them while we make our way inside**, Cyclops said calmly, as though it was the most obvious solution in the world.

Brows furrowed, I met his gaze and shook my head. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the mental signature that I had detected, shielding my mind as well as I could manage before taking a deep breath. I felt my hands moving, cupping together before pushing them apart. I charged at them ruthlessly, finding the cracks in their shield instantly before hitting them with a telepathic attack that knocked them unconscious immediately.

A gasp left my lips as I opened my eyes, letting my gaze trail over the brightened area around us. _Was just the one_, I assured them as I took in the changed setting. The telepath had managed to shield the entire facility, making it look as though it were completely abandoned when, in truth, it was fully operational. _I'm sure that they know we're here by now. And by they- I mean a lot of them_.

**Quite impressive! Why, I daresay I've only seen Charles, perhaps Emma, use such focused force. My, how our little doctor has come in handy**, Beast praised, eliciting a crooked grin from me even as I looked away from Cyclops' unwavering gaze.

**We are now moving in through the roof access, Cyclops. Suffice to say that they will not enjoy the fury of the wind that I bring with me**.

_There's a side entrance just ahead_, I informed them as I crept forward slowly, eyes narrowed in concentration. Using the familiar hand signals that I had learned during my short stint as an X-Men so many years ago, I motioned for Wolverine to lead the assault on the heavy door that appeared to be unguarded. He complied immediately, unsheathing his adamantium claws and ripping through the locking mechanism of the door and sending it swinging inward with a creaking groan.

We moved together as a group, Wolverine leading the way even as Beast bounded in behind him. Jubilee, dark sunglasses pulled over her eyes, crept along beside Cyclops, leaving me to bring up the rear. The moment that I stepped through the open door, it took several seconds for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. The halls were very bland; stained concrete floors and dirty off-white walls. Lights flickered overhead as we moved deeper inside, as if expecting that someone would lunge out at us at any given moment.

_Someone is moving this way_, I warned them, eyes narrowed in concentration as I followed the mental signature. Deftly, I brushed against their mental shields with a gentle touch, finding a crack and quickly slipping in so that I could read their surface thoughts. _They're armed and have orders to kill intruders on sight. _

A groan echoed in the hallway as Wolverine pressed his back against the wall to the left, leaving Beast to quickly follow the tactic on the right. Cyclops seemed less frightened and merely lifted his hand to his visor, one arm outstretched to keep Jubilee in place. I pulled the veil over us quickly, shielding the presence of our group, minus Beast and Wolverine, to any onlooker. The object of surprise is a strong tactic.

The man was pale in the face, carried an assault rifle, and was garbed in what could only be referred to as knock-off military clothing. His steps were light and sure as he pulled a small radio from his belt and stated that the east wing was clear a mere moment before his eyes widened in horror at the sight of Wolverine and Beast. He faltered with his radio a moment, his gloved hands struggling to press the proper buttons, before it clattered to the floor and broke beyond repair.

Wolverine leapt forward savagely, retracting his claws as he landed an elbow against the man's chin. A cry escaped the man's lips as the Wolverine wrapped his fingers around his neck, swinging his body around so that he could press the man's back against the cold off-white walls. The rest of us crept forward silently, but I did not drop the veil around Jubilee, Cyclops, and myself. Beast lumbered over to where Wolverine had the man pressed against the wall, baring his teeth as he elicited a growl that no doubt fit his beastly appearance.

"What's goin' on here, bub?" Wolverine demanded, tightening his grasp on the man's throat when he attempted to wiggle free. "Suggest ya get t' talkin' for ol' Blue here gets antsy and starts chowin' on yer entrails."

The man's eyes widened in horror as his eyes darted between Wolverine and Beast, resting on Beast as his mouth fell open in a silent cry. Jerkily, he swung his rifle around in his right hand, his finger preparing to pump the trigger as the sound of metal scraping against metal filled the air. I watched, silently bemused, as Wolverine's adamantium claws sliced through the gun as though it were butter.

The man squealed like a pig, the remains of the assault rifle clunking against the wall and the floor as he began to scratch at Wolverine's face with his gloved hands. "Get offa me, ya freak!" he wailed.

"I daresay this man is incapable of speech," Beast murmured, causing the man to spare him a confused glance. "My, are we surprised that the freaks are capable of eloquence? Hrm, fascinating."

"You- You're that freak offa the tv!" the man snarled, attempting to jerk out of Wolverine's vice-like grip. "One of these days, we're gonna get rid of all of you freaks!"

**I'm afraid I often forget just how recognizable I can be at times**, Beast murmured through the network, his eyes seeking out mine as I stalked forward.

I pulled away the telepathic veil the moment I stopped next to Wolverine, eliciting a shriek of horror from the man in his grasp. Tilting my head to the side slightly, I let my eyes rake over his trembling form slightly. _Don't worry, Hank. I can promise he won't remember even seeing us_, I assured him as I lifted my hands towards the man's head. My fingers rested on either side of his temples lightly, my touch feather light as I closed my eyes and focused on his mind.

Images flickered through his mind, threads of memories of his youth and, eventually, his most recent memory. With practiced ease, I erased having ever met us, quickly sealing over the time in question by weaving memories of a terrible fall that left him unconscious for some many hours. Then, after extracting the layout and the purpose for the facility, I rendered him unconscious.

As I opened my eyes, I focused on his limp form for a mere moment before clearing away the mental cobwebs that had accumulated in my head. Briefly, I lifted my hand to my head, twitching slightly as I worked through the information that I had taken from his mind. A warm touch on my elbow elicited a low gasp from my lips, and I turned to find myself staring up at the worried expression of the blue-furred Beast.

_I'm fine_, I assured him and everyone else that had picked up on my momentary distress. _The facility is virtually empty. However, he had knowledge of two possible projects in the lower levels that require our attention. Storm, have you ran into opposition?_

**Thanks to the Goddess, it has been clear sailing thus far**.

Brows furrowed, I motioned for Wolverine to drop the body of the unconscious man. He did so quickly, allowing the man's head to rap against the hard wall roughly before offering me a shrug. His claws, shining under the bright lighting, glinted slightly as he turned on his heel and continued further down the hallway.

He found a set of stairs that appeared empty and motioned for us to follow in his wake. Close together, we tramped down the stairs as quietly as possible, keeping our eyes open for any sign of movement. I continued to scan for mental signatures, and let out a gasp as I stumbled off of the very bottom stair. Beast's hand was warm on my elbow as he kept me steady, his gaze drawing my eyes away from Wolverine's back to their blue depths.

_There are only a handful ahead - in a laboratory. I can't quite make out the other two. I am not sure if they are unconscious or..._ I trailed off, unable to continue the line of thought. I could faintly feel presences other than the five individuals that claimed to be doctors, but I couldn't get a lock on them. Cyclops suggested contacting the Professor, again, but I ignored him and pressed pass Wolverine to lead the pack further down the hall.

The lower level was better maintained than the littered and run down grounds. It smelled of antiseptic and cleaning supplies, and caused my stomach to turn despite the fact that I had grown up with the smell in my life. It wasn't natural. The facility had long ago housed terminally ill men and women of all ages and, according to the data that the Professor had managed to recover, had been closed down in the mid-70s after financial problems. The smell of the clearly out of place antiseptic and bleach made my fingers tingle even as I continue to probe at the mental signatures that I had found.

Wolverine paused in front of a set of double-doors that appeared to be stainless steel. There was an access pad to the left that looked far more high tech than the building itself, and he eyed it thoroughly before glancing back at me.

_I believe Jubilee would be perfect for ridding us of the nuisance_, I assured him, glancing over at the Asian-American. She cast a smile in my direction before stalking forward and lifting her hand in a half-fist, letting out a barely audible giggle as a bright blast of light exited from her fingertips and caused the access pad to chirp once before smoke began to filter out of it. Immediately, the double-doors swung inward.

A feral growl escaped Wolverine's lips as he bound inside, claws sheathed, with Beast again on his heels. I lifted a hand, forming a telekinetic shield around myself, Cyclops, and Jubilee, and moved forward cautiously.

**My stars and garters... What have they done?**


	6. Chapter Five

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

* * *

><p><em>"You must trust and believe in people or life becomes impossible."<em>- Anton Chekov

_**-Chapter Five-**_

Other than the occasional bump or bruise from rough-housing or training in the Danger Room, my Medical Lab saw very little action. Now and then, Scott would wander in for aspirin, and sometimes Rogue would stop by to chat about her powers. But, for the most part, the Medical Lab was merely a front of sorts and kept exceptionally clean.

I had been part of the Xavier Institute again for nearly a month, and part of the X-Men for only several weeks, when the Medical Lab itself was finally used for its original purpose.

My soft-soled shoes made no sound on the pristine floor as I walked between the two patients, eyeing their stats quickly before jotting down a note or two on their charts. Light jazz played over the speakers, the volume turned down so low that it took effort to even hear the familiar bass and guitar that made up the soft-flowing melody.

"How are your patients doing this morning, Mackenzie?"

Sparing a glance at the two visitors, I quickly placed the two clipboards on my desk and led them out of the main lab and into my smaller, though more comfortable, office. I picked up the kettle of coffee and motioned toward them, nodding slightly when both shook their head in declination. Xavier maneuvered his chair so that he was positioned in an angle in front of my desk, while Hank slid onto the comfortable love seat that took up a great deal of one entire wall.

"They're doing as well as can be expected," I found myself saying as I lifted a hand to run it idly through my hair. Vaguely, I wondered when I had last spent more than a few minutes running a comb through it; as my hours in the Lab had nearly tripled since two nights previous when we had recovered two sole survivors from a facility in northeastern New Jersey. "Both of them are completely fine physically, and the sedatives have been out of their system for," I glanced down at my watch and frowned, "Nearly eighteen hours."

"It is not out of the realm of reasoning that they could be in self-induced comas," Charles Xavier offered quietly, gathering his hands in his lap. "What little data we've been able to decrypt from the files insists that they had only been part of the program for several days at best."

Nodding, I eased a hip onto my cluttered desk and let my feet dangle off of the floor several inches. "The notes scribbled in their so-called files leaves me to believe that my theories are correct. Neither of the two are... easily swayed telepathically. Simply attempting to breach their minds - even in their unconscious state - has proven to be quite difficult. LeBeau-"

"The male," Hank added, nodding his head slightly. "Their files indicate that he is able to somehow _charge_ inanimate objects and cause them to, quite literally, explode. I've been able to find absolutely nothing regarding his past or how he may have wound up in their grasp. I'm left to conclude that he may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time."

I agreed with him and sent him a mental murmur of agreement as I crossed my legs and rested my weight on the palm of my left hand. "The female is even more difficult to even read. Despite the fact that she's in a rather deep coma, I can't even skim the surface of her mind. It's in a constant state of flux, almost like Kitty's." I nodded toward the Professor, who merely pinched his lips together. "According to their files, it seems that they were to be disposed of after the telepaths realized that they were not suitable for the project."

"I am leery about having an unknown element, let alone two, in my school," Xavier murmured, more so to himself than to Hank or myself. His gaze flickered up slightly, meeting mine before swivelling to where Hank sat across from me. "Guests typically undergo a quick mental scan courtesy of yours truly, but seeing as how I'm unable to ascertain their intentions... It's simply disconcerting, my dear."

I nodded slowly in agreement, part of me willing to see his opinion in the matter, even if I didn't agree with him. "I can promise you that the moment they are-" I cut myself off quickly, eyes narrowing as a familiar sound echoed loudly in the main lab.

Hurriedly, I slid off of the desk and rushed into the lab, hair fluttering about my face as I stared with wide eyes at my patients.

The man, known only as LeBeau, looked to be in his late twenties. He had dark, shaggy brown hair that looked striking against his stubbled chin. His eyes, an unnatural contrast of red upon black, had frightened me. He had been garbed in plain white scrubs when we had found him, but it did little to hide the powerful body that God had given him. He weighed nearly two hundred pounds and was nearly as tall as Scott. His female companion, name unknown, had striking blue hair, matching blue eyes, and couldn't have been more than five foot tall.

Yet, standing side by side, they looked far more formidable than they had lying next to each other on the examination tables.

I kept my hands at my sides and sent the Professor and Hank a mental warning to remain in the office, simply because - if their postures were any indication - the two guests weren't going to react in a very friendly manner.

"Before you act on that thought and destroy my lab, LeBeau, I suggest that you give me a moment to explain," I warned the man as he picked up a discarded stethoscope that I had clumsily forgotten at his feet. My brows furrowed as the stethoscope began to glow a light fuchsia color, one that was most unnatural. "I'm not here to hurt you."

"Yeah, right," the woman spat, whipping her head back as she looked at the man and then back at me. "You assholes took me down once, but I can guarantee that I'm not holding back this time!" She let loose a string of curses as she drew back her hand and then thrust it toward me, sending a bolt of what appeared to be bright blue light in my direction.

Instantly, I erected a telekinetic shield around myself, frowning when the blue light struck it and sizzled before dissipating. "If I was really _one of them_, don't you think I would have kept you both sedated or at least strapped down?" I demanded, doing my best to keep my voice level. "You are both free to leave whenever you like, but I'll have to insist that you remain at least _pleasant_ or I'll be forced to ensure that you spend the entirety of your short visit here unconscious." Lifting a hand, I stalked forward slowly, using my TK to turn up the lights to a nearly blinding level as I eyed them warily.

The glowing stethoscope in the man's hand faded to its normal color as he gently placed it back on the examination table. His red on black eyes seemed to pierce through me as he inclined his head slightly. "Je suis désolé *," he murmured, nodding his head slightly. "Petite, she ain't lyin'."

"I don't give a flying fuck if she's lying or not!" the woman beside him hissed, ignoring his arm as he attempted to reach out to placate her. "You aren't going to do shit with us, lady. So I suggest you-" she cut off suddenly as the sound of Professor Xavier's wheelchair humming greeted my ears.

**I daresay she recognizes me**, he murmured.

I pursed my lips as I slowly let my hands fall to my sides, my blue eyes focused on the two unfamiliar people in front of me. The woman's bright blue eyes narrowed slightly as she glanced first at me and then at the man beside me, her mind working so quickly that I couldn't even gather a complete thought. _It's unnerving not being able to get an actual reading from either of them_.

**It certainly is**, he agreed with me as he offered them a warm and placating smile. "Please, my friends, do not act rashly. I am Charles Xavier, and you are currently in the Medical Laboratory of my School for Mutants." He toggled his wheelchair and moved forward a bit more, positioning himself between me and the two potential guests. "You know that we mean you no harm. I detected your unique mutant signatures days ago, and felt it imperative to see that you were rescued from the facility in which you were held captive."

"You're _the_ Charles Xavier?" the woman prompted, her features uncertain as she spared a glance at the red-eyed mutant beside her. "Honestly?"

I found myself smiling slightly in relief as Hank moved in behind me and the two mutants made no move to attack him. _Surely_, I found myself telling Hank, _if they were going to attack, they would have attacked you on sight._

**One would think**, he agreed softly, his hand warm on the small of my back.

"I can assure you that I am indeed Charles Xavier. If you both would only give me a bit of your time, I could properly explain..." he began gently, coaxing the two perfectly. It was a spiel that he had used often, and it rarely failed him. And it would seem that it wouldn't fail him this time, either.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:***Je suis désolé is French for _"I'm sorry." _(Please forgive me if my French is terrible. I've used a translator.)


	7. Chapter Six

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

* * *

><p><em>"There was a castle called Doubting Castle, the owner whereof was Giant Despair." - <em>John Bunyan

_**-Chapter Six-**_

"Mon petite, I mean nothin' of de sort!"

Shaking my head, I scraped the remains of my lunch into the trash can before placing the plate in the sink. "I know that, Remy," I sighed, dusting off my hands as I turned on my heel to face him. There was a glint of laughter in his gaze as he leaned against the doorway lazily, his seemingly ever-present trench coat ruffling at his calves. "You may think that flirting with every female is normal, but I would appreciate you leaving my students alone."

"De Rogue is not a student, oui?" A wicked grin curled his devil lips as he lifted a hand to run it through his disheveled hair. "I see 'er teachin' just like you, mon chere. Train wit' 'er, eat wit' 'er, why can I not talk t' her?"

"Talking is fine," I assured him, rolling my eyes as I tapped my fingers on my thigh. "However, flirting with her so much that her face is red for the entire day is a bit much. Unlike the women that you tend to associate yourself with, she's very impressionable and innocent. Don't pressure her," I warned him, narrowing my eyes at his smirking face. "Besides, I thought that you and Aubrey were an item."

He shrugged one shoulder lazily as he righted himself, adjusting his coat as it bunched up around his elbow. "Aubrey an' me - we t'gether sometimes. Just 'cause we came as a pair don' mean dat we gon' stay one fo'ever. Dat a problem, petite?"

"You make it all sound so casual, LeBeau." Sighing, I rounded the counter and brushed past him. "I will warn you right now that if you leave any broken hearts in your path that I will not be afraid to take action. Oh, don't look at me like that," I warned him as I glared at him over my shoulder. "If you so much as cause that girl to cry, I will make sure you spend the rest of your life believing that you are constantly PMSing. Wait until you feel bloated, cranky, and crave chocolate. Are we clear?"

He merely laughed at my retreating back as I swept down the hall and into the recreation room which, thanks to the stellar weather, was virtually deserted. Spotting a familiar face seated on the oversized couch, I bypassed a rousing game of table hockey and sat down between Hank and Scott.

"Hey Hank, hi Scott," I offered them a smile before leaning back into the couch cushion, eyes on the screen. A movie was playing, an unfamiliar one. Neither man seemed too entranced by the movie as they spared me a glance; Hank quickly crossing his legs and leaning against his side of the couch and Scott simply angling his body away from mine, as if touching me would give him some sort of disease. "If you want me to go -"

"No, pet, you're fine," Hank assured me, awkwardly patting me on the shoulder before folding his large hands in his lap. "Scott and I were actually just discussing the possible upcoming field trip to Washington DC. I can't help but think that it might be enjoyable for a select group of students to view our country's capital."

I chewed on my thumbnail thoughtfully before nodding, eyes focused on the unrecognizable action movie on the screen. "It might be interesting. I'd hope that they would behave. In a place as popular as DC, it would be difficult to contain any incidents, minor or not."

"I'm sure you could just erase every memory of us ever having been there," Scott muttered from beside me, his voice laced with what I could only refer to as sarcasm.

Brow lifted, I dropped my hand into my lap and glanced over at him, confusion written clearly across my features. "What's that supposed to mean? I don't recall anyone complaining when I covered our tracks in Jersey. If you have a problem with my methods -"

"Was it ethical?" he blurted out, his jaw clenched tightly as his gaze swiveled around to meet mine. Not for the first time, I found myself loathing his shades, as they hid his eyes from view. You could never quite tell exactly how he felt without being able to meet his gaze levelly. "Using your powers like that, Mac - was it right?"

"Don't you think that the Professor would have done the same thing?" I inquired gently, struggling to keep my mental shields in place. Part of me wanted to skim Scott's thoughts, wanted to see exactly _what_ he thought about the matter. And yet, part of me was worried about what sorts of things I would find lurking beneath the surface. It was no secret that he and I weren't on the best terms. "I did what I thought was necessary for our own safety. If you can't respect that -"

"It's not about respect," he interrupted, clenching his jaw even more tightly. "It's about the fact that you exercised your powers without even a mere warning. Hell, none of us even had any idea of the full scope of your abilities until -"

I lifted a hand and cut him off. Sighing, I closed my eyes and gathered my thoughts as I slowly shook my head. "First of all, that's not my fault. If I recall correctly, I requested that I be able to train with the X-Men when I was first offered the position here. I believe that it was a certain someone that insisted that I was not needed; nor wanted. Second of all," I lifted a hand to silence him as he attempted to interrupt me. "Second of all, we worked together as a team years ago, in case you forgot. Although I have a finesse now that I did not have then, not much has really changed."

"When that guard appeared out of nowhere and attempted to run us down with that Humvee, what did you do?" he prompted, shaking his head slightly. "You swatted the thing away like it was a fly, Mac. A fly. Jean-"

"Oh, so this is about _Jean_." Fighting the urge to snarl, I balled my hands into fists and looked away, glaring at the television screen before meeting his gaze again. "While I understand your need to compare us at every available opportunity, I would like to remind you that I am _not_ Jean. I will _never_ be Jean. Yes, we have a lot in common; I'm a doctor, I'm a telekinetic and telepathic- But we are _nothing_ alike in any other manner." Huffily, I stood, hands splayed on my hips and blonde hair falling over my narrowed eyes. "I would strongly suggest that you remember that from now on, Scott."

His lips thinned into a broken line as he gripped the arm of the couch tightly, his chin pointed down as he looked toward the floor. "I know that you're not her, Mac -"

"I know that you're mourning," I interrupted, shaking my head slightly. "We're all mourning; you more than anyone. But, that does not give you the right to treat me like this. We were all once friends, good friends. I'm tired of having so much animosity directed towards me. I _like_ it here. I like being a part of this atmosphere. If you expect me to run away from here with my tail between my legs again, you're sorely mistaken."

Ignoring his pleas, I hurried out of the room, brushing past a few lingering students in my hurry to stomp to the elevator. Even if I wasn't wanted, I could at least spend time holed up in my lab.

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><p><strong>AN:** Honestly, I don't think my attempt at a Cajun accent could get much worse.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

**Thanks** to the readers and the reviewers! Your kindness urges me to post the finished product much faster than I'd originally planned.

* * *

><p><em>"Preparation for war is a constant stimulus to suspicion and ill will." - <em>James Monroe

_**-Chapter Seven-**_

"Good job, everyone!" I cheered, smiling warmly at the sweating faces of the people that made up the Junior X-Men roster. "That was a real improvement over last week. Any comments?"

Rogue fell into a pile of limbs, breathing heavily as she brushed her platinum bangs off of her damp forehead. "Ah got just one, Doc - Can we never do that again?"

Laughing, I reached out with my TK and sent a tray filled with bottled water sailing in their direction. As it came to a rest on the ground in front of Rogue, the others fanned around her, reaching forward and quickly downing the cool contents. "I'm afraid that we're going to be doing this one at least a few more times."

"I mean, like, I understand that we didn't get it all perfect and stuff," Jubilee struggled to breathe as she laid her head on John's legs, her arms sprawled out. "But, like, fighting against giant robots is kinda pointless and stuff. It's like fighting against Wolverine or something. He just ain't going down and -"

I lifted a hand, cutting her off instantly. "Hank has assured us that he was shown the plans for these oversized robots. The government has already been working on them for several years, perhaps decades." I glanced upward, where I knew Hank and Logan were watching over the training session. "The possibility of these so-called Sentinels is very likely, and we want you all to be prepared. Now, are there any observations that you would like to share?"

"Yeah, I hated that shit," St. John muttered, jerking his knee so that it rapped against Jubilee's head sharply.

"Didn't bother me none. I just zoomed inside and fried 'em." Aubrey Howell, the woman that we had rescued from the facility weeks previous, - code named Voltic- was a mutant with the ability to tamper with electricity. She could eject bolts of electricity from her hands and even _communicate_ with technology in an odd sort of way. What was most unique, however, was the fact that she could turn her body into pure energy, allowing her to literally zip through an electrical socket, a computer, even something as advanced as the Sentinel. "Was kinda fun."

_Voltic and Gambit work together really well. They seem to perform better than expected in a group setting. I don't think it would be out of the question to include them in a few sessions with the other X-Men, just to feel them out_, I thought, sending my thoughts out across the telepathic network that I had constructed between the Professor, Hank, Scott, Ororo, Logan, and myself. None of them seemed adverse to the thought, and I projected the image of the group of people in front of me to all of them. _Colossus is still holding back. I'm not sure if Gambit was or if... He was just playing around._

**His figures are rather extraordinary. He clearly is not pushing himself to his limits, and yet his power levels alone are well above the norm. I must admit that his agility is something that I've never before seen.**

** Gotta agree with Furball. I've seen Gumbo before, sparred with 'im too. Kid's got some moves.**

Brow arched in Gambit's direction, I shifted my weight from foot to foot, lips pursed in contemplation. "Rogue, you've gained more control over your powers," I murmured, wincing visibly when she appeared pained. "Both Pyro and Voltic offered to let you imprint them."

"Ah know," she replied softly, her brown eyes focused on her gloved hands. "Ah just don't like feelin' lahke a liability. If Ah hang on fah too long, it ain't gonna be pretty."

I nodded slowly, understanding and yet disagreeing. Quickly, I made a mental note to schedule a meeting with her later in the coming weeks so that we could go over her struggles and perhaps overcome her own paranoia. I knew that it would take a great deal of work, but I had a bit of a soft spot for the untouchable girl that tended to spend at least one afternoon a week down in my lab simply chatting.

"As for the rest of you, there's definite room for improvement." Jubilee released a groan at my declaration, but I merely spared her a small smile. "We're going to focus on this scenario again tomorrow morning, but I'm going to change a few things around. Instead of being allowed to work together as a team, everyone is going to be separated and the goal will be to find one another."

"But I thought we were leaving tomorrow for DC?" Kitty piped up, lifting her hand in the air.

Grinning, I quickly nodded my head as I brushed my hair behind my ear. "We are, that's the beauty of it." A collective groan echoed in the cavernous room, causing me to chuckle even as I shook my head. "The bus will be pulling out of the gates at promptly eight am. We will be meeting in the morning at six sharp. We'll keep the session under an hour so that you can all eat a hearty breakfast before you pull out. Oh, don't look at me like that, St. John," I warned him, sending him a quick mental image of exactly how quickly his lighter could disappear. "It's going to be at least a five hour trip; assuming that we don't run into traffic or bad weather."

"So, like, at least we can like sleep on the bus and stuff," Jubilee muttered, eliciting a nod of agreement from the others.

"Exactly," I nodded, lifting a hand and grabbing the tray, now piled with empty bottles, with my TK. With ease, I maneuvered the tray over onto a table, placing it gently before turning my attention to the group yet again. "I'll slip a few notes under your doors later if anything comes to mind regarding the session. Shower up and head down to lunch," I urged them.

_I saw that, Gambit_, I narrowed my gaze at him as he quickly slipped his hands into his pockets. He spared me a quick glance over his shoulder as the group of them filed out of the Danger Room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. _Keep your groping sessions with Aubrey to a minimum._

**Aw, chere. Dun' worry, dey be plenty o' me t' go 'round.**

Snorting, I picked up my clipboard and strolled out of the Danger Room, ignoring the urge to send him into convulsions.

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><p><strong>AN:** Not only did I throw myself to the wolves with a Cajun accent, but I just _had_ to attempt Rogue's, didn't I? Le sigh.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

* * *

><p><em>"Here I am<em>

_On the road again_

_There I am_

_Up on a stage_

_Here I go_

_Playin' star again_

_There I go_

_Turn the page." - Bob Seger_

_**-Chapter Eight-**_

"Please make sure that you properly stow your baggage!" Scott called out over the ruckus. I spared him a sympathetic smile as I adjusted my travel bag, squeezing my way through Piotr and St. John in order to climb the steps of the X-Bus.

While the name was a bit silly, it suited the bus quite well. It seated twenty comfortably, and had plenty of room for baggage and accessories. The bus itself was top of the line, and furnished and outfitted for the likes of senators and congressmen. Of course, Charles Xavier would have nothing less representing his supposed preparatory school.

_Ah, this will do nicely_, I decided as I settled into a seat in the very back, ignoring Jubilee's snoring as I shrugged my bag off and placed it on the seat next to me. The seats reminded me of some sort of luxury cross-country bus, and I found myself thankful for the fact that they were extremely comfortable and provided far more leg room than I'd anticipated. While it certainly didn't have an extremely small bathroom in the back like a Greyhound bus, it did at least offer two television sets midway for the passengers to view.

"Jubes! Move your feet!" Rogue grumbled as she shoved her way into a seat in front of Jubilee, casting the half-asleep girl a glare as she rested her head against the window.

My blue eyes swept over the mostly empty seats, taking in every familiar face as I glanced toward the front. I offered a sleepy Piotr a smile - which promptly caused him to blush - before noticing the vibrant figure of none other than Henry McCoy and offering a grin. He returned it, ten-fold, and pressed his way through the narrow aisle to the back of the bus where I was situated. Sparing me a quick nod, he slid onto the seat across from mine, placing his small carry-on bag next to him.

Perched on the outside edge of the seat, he leaned over the aisle and grinned at me before thumbing at the paperback novel that peaked out of my bag. "I see you've brought along a bit of light reading. Though, few would consider _The Hobbit_ to be anything of the sort."

"I thought about grabbing _The Fountainhead_, but it tends to make me over-think everything," I admitted, laughing a bit at the admission. Curious, I leaned over the aisle a bit and looked toward the front of the bus, where Scott was ushering the last handful of students on board. "Looks like a good bunch of kids. I think that this just might be a good trip- - for all of us."

He nodded in agreement as I re-situated myself, crossing my legs loosely as I braced my back against the wall and window so that I could converse and see Hank. "I'm sure that there are a few that are going to keep us on our toes; but yes. The itinerary is going to allow for maximum entertainment while ensuring that we don't tire ourselves. Actually..." he murmured as he reached into his bag and pulled out a leather portfolio. Flipping it open quickly, he found the laminated page in question and leaned over the aisle, holding the leather portfolio itself so that I could make out the scrawling cursive handwriting. "I was thinking that tonight we could relax and perhaps maybe even visit the Lincoln Memorial. It's simply beautiful at night and -"

"Where's Logan?" Scott barked from the front of the bus, causing me to jump slightly as I jerked my gaze in the direction of his voice. He stood, hands crossed over his chest, a very unhappy expression on his face. "See, I knew that -"

"Oh, get that stick outta yer ass, One-Eye," the man in question grumbled as he clambered up the steps of the X-Bus, brushing past Scott roughly to sit in an empty seat about halfway back. He tossed his leather jacket on the seat next to him before pulling his Stetson low over his eyes. "Gonna kill 'Ro for this."

Uncharacteristically, Scott smirked before letting his hands fall and rest on the top of two chairs on either side of the aisle. "Okay, everyone, listen up! We're about to embark on our journey to our nation's capital. You have all already signed an agreement stating that you will be on your best behavior, refrain from using your abilities under nearly _any _circumstance, and that you will simply act your age. Now, this bus will not be turning around. I can promise you that any slip-up, no matter how minor, will result in a weekend spent in a catatonic state courtesy of our resident telepath," he motioned a hand toward where I sat in the back.

_Oh, I'm sure that they'll take that to heart, Slim,_ I assured him even while I lifted my chin in St. John's direction. Between him, Jubilee, and Aubrey, I knew it was going to be a long three-day weekend. "I'd like to add the reminder that wherever you go, whatever you may do on this trip - you _are_ representing the Xavier Institute. While you might not particularly care if a perfect stranger thinks you're different, we do. We've requested that you all bring acceptable clothing, and I can promise you that sagging pants, revealing shirts or skirts will be dealt with promptly, and I can assure you that if I am forced to clothe you, you will regret it." I gave them a moment to let it sink in before I nodded at Scott, who deftly slid into the driver's seat at the front and slid the doors shut.

"We're expecting a five and a half hour trip, boys and girls," he explained, glancing in the large rear view mirror. "We're planning on one pit stop between here and there. Get some rest!"

Surprisingly enough, the majority of the passengers seemed to take the suggestion to heart as they settled into their seats. Most appeared to be listening to their iPods and MP3 players, and others -like Piotr- had snuggled up with a pillow to get a bit of sleep. I let my gaze rake over them, touching on their minds only briefly to make sure that they all felt safe and secure, before smiling at Hank.

_We might have to deal with a bit of teenage romance_, I warned him, stifling a giggle at his obvious frown. A brow perched over his spectacles as he spared them a quick glance, shaking his head quickly before sighing. _But I'm not sure you were right when you said that Aubrey and Remy were only good friends. She's ogling Guthrie like a woman dying for water. And Remy seems less than pleased._

He clucked his tongue as he shut the leather portfolio, quickly tucking it back inside of his bag securely. **Sam Guthrie is a force to be reckoned with. I was quite certain that he and Tabitha were an item, but it would seem that she is cozying up with St. John. They are both adults...**

_That doesn't mean we're going to give them the opportunity to neck like teenagers_, I interrupted, grinning as his cheeks were dusted with a light violet. Due to his blue appearance, what would have normally been a light pink blush was a soft violet hue. _Don't worry, Hank. I'll be sure to keep an eye on them._

He shook his head quickly as he pulled his lightweight jacket off and draped it over the back of his seat. I took a quick moment to let my gaze rake over his appearance, smiling softly to myself at the very informally dressed Henry McCoy. It wasn't often that one could find him in a pair of denim jeans, let alone an old college sweatshirt and loafers. It was slightly fitting, and reminded me of a time before his secondary mutation had changed his already slightly abnormal appearance so drastically.

**I am more worried about Logan**, he confided, arching a brow toward the front of the bus where Logan sat, seemingly asleep. **Rogue and Bobby broke up some time ago and I'm afraid that the man is harboring some feelings for her. It's not wise -**

_Love isn't wise. That's the beauty of it. Again, they're both adults. In fact, Kitty and Paige are the only two short of eighteen, and Kitty's records indicate that will change in a matter of months. I should hope that we needn't worry about Paige. She seems too innocent, too sweet._

**They are all children in my eyes, Mac**, his voice rumbled in my head comfortably. **But, I can at least be jealous of their love; the easiness with which they allow themselves to fall.**

My stomach clenched uncomfortably as I licked my lips thoughtfully. While he didn't often show real, true emotion, I could see the sorrow that lined his face. His eyes, normally alight with life, were dulled somehow as he cast me a long look before focusing his gaze out the window, as if hoping that our surroundings would clear his mind.

Thoughtfully, I pulled myself away from him mentally, leaving his thoughts undisturbed as I rested the back of my head on the cool window behind me. I knew, of course, about his long engagement with his college sweetheart. I had seen the few articles over the years, and the woman had seemed nice enough. There had been a press conference or two when he was still Ambassador to Mutant Affairs wherein she had been spotted off to the side. But, when he had undergone his secondary mutation around the time of Jean's death, the tabloids had claimed that she had called off the wedding immediately.

I tried to put myself in her shoes momentarily, wondering if I would have stayed with the very same man that I had been engaged to for nearly three years. Would I have married him despite his outward appearance? Could I have accepted it?

_St. John, put that lighter away_, I warned him when a stray thought of his flickered through my mental shields. The very last thing we needed was for a fight to break out on the bus.

A bus filled with well-trained mutants.


	10. Chapter Nine

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

* * *

><p><em>"It is impossible to overdue luxury." - <em>French Proverb

_**-Chapter Nine-**_

The lobby of the Four Seasons Hotel was simply overwhelming.

Even with my upscale background; my upper class family upbringing, my trust fund, and even my success as a physician - I hadn't expected the sheer beauty of it to be so overwhelming. Professor Xavier had warned us ahead of time, of course, that he had spared no expense and wanted the trip to be a memorable one for all parties involved. Originally, he had intended to join us on the trip, but had eventually reconsidered after he realized that leaving Storm at the Institute as the lone figurehead would simply not do.

"This place is so frickin' fancy," Jubilee muttered at my right, her bright pink bubble gum forgotten as she let her eyes trail over the shiny floors, the artwork, everything. "Dr. Benton, are we really, like, staying here?"

Smiling, I shouldered my bag and rested a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. "Scott and Hank are handling the paperwork right now, Jubilee. Let's get everyone over toward the elevators," I urged her as we gathered everyone and moved them in the direction of the shiny gold-embossed elevators.

Logan, a frown upon his face, took the opportunity to lean up against a wall, eyes downcast even while the rest of the students chattered amongst themselves. I spared Aubrey a quick mental warning about the blue-white light that made her hands glow before clearing my throat as Scott and Hank appeared, room keys in hand.

"We _will_ be sharing rooms, ladies and gents. However, the rooms are spacious and equipped with comfortable queen-sized beds, and I do not anticipate any problems." Hank handed me the first pile of room keys and I motioned Jubilee forward. "Jubilee, Rahne, and Tabby will be rooming together. These are your room keys. Do _not_ lose them or the cost of replacing them will be taken out of you in the form of manual labor." I lifted a brow, indicating that said manual labor would occur back at the School where the Danger Room could be grueling. "Rogue, Aubrey, and Paige - You three will be sharing a room adjacent to the other girls. Here are your room keys," I grinned at Rogue as she walked forward hesitantly and her gloved hand slipped into mine.

"As for the gentlemen," Hank cleared his throat, drawing their attention immediately. "All four of you will be rooming together, obviously. However, to ease the awkwardness, we've arranged for two adjacent rooms so that you each get your own bed. Now now, Jubilee. I can see that glint in your eyes. Could we please spare the sexist comments for now?" he grinned, meeting my gaze and casting a wink in my direction before he shifted his briefcase bag slightly.

Tabitha Smith, code named Boom Boom in the Danger Room for a very good reason, cleared her throat and leered at Sam Guthrie for a long moment. "So, exactly where are the teachers holing up at, Blue?"

"Thanks to the Professor's generosity, we will be splitting a large suite between us," Scott explained, merely inclining his head at the young woman. Behind him, two bellhops appeared with the carts of luggage, having had Piotr as their guide to the X-Bus. "Please pass the sheets to the person next to you," he urged them as he began handing out the small pamphlet to everyone. The front page had the contact information, including the room numbers for each group's room, as well as emergency numbers for the front desk. The rest of the pamphlet included the rough itinerary that we hoped to stick to, as well as a few reminders for them all to be on their best behavior. "It's two thirty. You all have until four to settle in and get acquainted with the hotel."

A number of groans and whines echoed through the crowd as we shuffled into a spacious elevator together, leaving the two bell boys to catch another.

"Come on, Mr. Summers. We're okay on our own," Bobby muttered, shaking his head as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"Yeah," St. John added, nodding his head quickly. "Caging us up like little kids -"

"Shaddup, kid," Logan growled low in his throat, causing the moans and groans in the large elevator to cease almost immediately. He tipped his Stetson back slightly and let his hazel eyes rake over their faces, snarling slightly as St. John wrinkled up his face in annoyance. "Gonna tell you little snot-nosed brats right now - if the Doc or One-Eye come runnin' t' me and tell me that any o' ya, just one, done ran off... There's gonna be hell t' pay cause I'm gonna be th' one huntin' ya down. Got it?" he barked as the elevator dinged and slid open on our floor.

There was absolute silence as we disembarked, shuffling our way down the long and brightly lit hallway. While the lobby had been simply phenomenal, the hallways themselves were even over the top. It was strange knowing that the carpets themselves were probably important or hand woven or _something_ that made them so beautiful. The walls looked coppery, like someone had taken the time with each and every copper and gold mosaic tile that had gone into every single scene. It was unreal, and left me smiling like an idiot as we guided everyone to their rooms.

"Nice warning, Logan," I complimented as we slipped into our suite a handful of minutes later. The bell boys had finally caught up to us and distributed the luggage mechanically, barely nodding at Hank when he handed them each a folded up bill that exceeded the requirement. "Wow, when Xavier pampers, he really pampers."

The small foyer led into an impressive sitting room that was clearly designed with a congressman in mind. Decorated warmly with dark leather couches and chairs, a large flat-screen television, and several glass tables that were littered with fresh flowers- it looked both warm and inviting at the same time. A large arched doorway led into a spacious dining room, which housed a pristine dining table and chairs with enough room for eight to eat comfortably. While the small kitchen off of the dining room merely boosted an under-the-counter refrigerator, coffee maker, microwave, and espresso machine- it was simply exquisite.

"Got three rooms," Logan grunted as he plopped down on the hardly worn-in black leather couch. I eased forward, resting my hand on the back of the couch near his head as I glanced up at the impressive chandelier and then at the three partially opened doors that led to the bedrooms, barely aware of the fourth door that led into the large bathroom. "Pullin' straws, Doc?"

Smiling, I shook my head. "I can tell you all right now that I'm not going to sleep on a couch. If two of you would prefer to share a bed with one another, you're more than welcome," I quipped, lifting a brow as Logan snorted. I dug my small black suitcase out of the pile of luggage and carried it to the larger of the three rooms, dumping the suitcase and my bag onto the king-sized bed with a smile.

Feeling a bit giddy, I let myself fall face first onto the soft-as-clouds bed and release a groan of pleasure. Despite the arguing from the men in the other room, I felt myself relax significantly.

_I wouldn't dare throw that pillow at me, Scott Summers_.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I've never stayed or visited the Four Seasons Hotel in Washington, D.C. I based the short little tour and the decorative explanations on pictures alone. It really does look like a lovely place. (:


	11. Chapter Ten

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

* * *

><p><em>"Today, the theory of evolution is an accepted fact for everyone but a fundamentalist minority, whose objections are based not on reasoning but on doctrinaire adherence to religious principles." - <em>James D. Watson

_**-Chapter Ten-**_

While it had been a feat for all of the students to meet up in the lobby at exactly four-thirty, it had been simply a miracle for the X-Bus to navigate the city streets and find a parking spot near the Waterfront so that we were able to walk to our destination. It had taken forty grueling minutes a number of telepathic suggestions in order to get there, but it had been worth it.

They walked in pairs and groups of three, sometimes alone, as they made their way through the long throngs of crowds toward the magnificent national monument.

I found myself hanging back, grimacing slightly as I hastened to reinforce my mental shields. In the beginning I had planned to weave a network, as was the usual for anything related to the team since I'd joined - and yet had changed my mind when I'd woken up from a short twenty minute nap with a headache.

"Are you quite alright?" a rumbling voice inquired as a warm hand grasped my arm gently. I glanced over at Hank and offered him a faint smile, my head throbbing at the mere effort. "Have I told you yet that you look quite lovely tonight, pet?"

A blush crept up my neck as I shook my head, releasing a small chortle of laughter at the compliment. "Oh Hank," I murmured, reaching over and clasping his hand gently before he released his hold on me.

Despite my reinforced mental shields, I still got snippets of thoughts from passerbys as they caught sight of Hank. Dressed in slate-black slacks, a white button-up shirt, and a gray vest, he certainly looked like a congressman or something as important. Yet, strangers seemed uncomfortable, even suspicious around someone that was obviously a mutant. He didn't seem the least bit worried as he placed his hand lightly on the small of my back and led me through the crowd, apologizing again and again as his staggering size caused him to brush shoulders with numerous people.

A scowling man bumped into me, causing me to stagger slightly against Hank even as I looked over my shoulder, eyes narrowed at the _hate_ and _disgust_ that had rolled off of the man in thick waves when he'd brushed by me. It made me nauseous, and caused me to smile up at Hank even more brightly than necessary as I let him lead me through the crowd.

We all gathered together midway up the steps to the right, Logan leaning against the handrail lazily. Kitty and Paige shared a quick giggle as a throng of college-aged boys wandered by, but quickly quieted down once Hank cleared his throat.

"The Lincoln Memorial is our first stop for a number of reasons," he began, sparing me a smile as I slipped my clutch purse from my left hand to my right. Like everyone else (minus Logan), I had dressed semi-formally, and found that a clutch purse fitted my attire better than an over sized purse. "Abraham Lincoln is remembered for his views, his own struggles. He was the President that wanted to end slavery."

The gathered group, surprisingly, settled down quite a bit and seemed to pay a bit more attention. To my astonishment, several elder gentlemen paused in their ascent to the top of the stairs to listen in on Hank's quick speech.

"Throughout history, there have been many great men that have led our country. Very few, however, have impacted the history of the world in the way that Mr. Lincoln did. Even today, his struggles to end the Civil War, his additions to the US Constitution, impact our everyday life. He believed that every man is born equal to his neighbor and - so long as it may be on American soil - is therefore born a free man." He paused for a moment, the age-old fire darkening his bright blue orbs slightly as he lifted a hand and pressed it against his chest. "The world faces troubling times that have turned neighbor against neighbor. Everyday brings growing reports of abuse and death and even acts of terrorism against a fellow American simply based on the fact that they were born what has been termed a _mutant_."

A young family joined the group of elderly gentlemen, a cautious father clenching his young daughter's hand tightly even while the mother rested her hands atop her son's shoulders. No matter where Hank went, he seemed to draw a crowd.

"We are on the brink of another Civil War because we are unable to see past something as ingrained as skin color. Because some people are born with a slight mutation in their Deoxyribonucleic acid, their DNA, they are being treated like second class citizens. Abraham Lincoln fought and died for our country; he saved the Union and ended the practice of slavery here in the United States and sent a strong message to the rest of the world that slavery is simply unacceptable. And yet, here we are yet again on the precipice of disaster."

"It's because we're afraid!" the young mother shouted out, drawing Hank's attention. Her face had paled and her eyes were filled with tears, but she ignored her husband's insistence to remain quiet and stood her ground. "They're dangerous. I don't want my kids to have to worry about going to school, walking to the park."

Hank smiled warmly, careful not to reveal his elongated incisors. The very last thing he needed was to frighten the woman any further. "I can understand your point, but if I may?" He lifted a hand slightly, as if asking the woman if he had her permission to share his point of view. Jerkily, she nodded her head. "I would like to stress that not _all _mutants pose a threat to the American way of life. In fact, until Senator Kelly propositioned the Mutant Registration Act, we lived in relative peace with one another. Mutants are no different from any of you. We want to live our lives, to go to school, possibly even college. Most of us simply want to have fulfilling careers and families to go home to at the end of the night. Does that make us so different from you?"

Unlike Professor Xavier and Jean, my ethics did not stop me from using my powers against others at my every whim. I respected peoples' privacy, and never delved deeper than needed. Charles would have called it an invasion of privacy and would have clucked his tongue at me, but I still found myself skimming her surface thoughts in order to gauge her reactions.

_Her son is a mutant_, I sent towards Hank, blue eyes focused on the young boy in front of the mother. He looked to be no more than ten or eleven years old, but he looked nervous, even frightened. _He has x-ray vision, and she's worried about what the future holds for him._

"The research that has been conducted over the last several years by several independent groups has verified the fact that the group of people referred to as mutants aren't mere freaks of nature," he murmured, his voice echoing slightly in the early night air. "Mankind is simply evolving. Charles Darwin once said '**At some future period, not very distant as measured by centuries, the civilized races of man will almost certainly exterminate, and replace the savage races throughout the world'. I cannot help but hope that he is not proven to be correct in his suspicions."

"It means if we don't find peace, we'll only devolve into the simple beings that once walked this earth," Rogue piped up, her words containing little of her usual southern drawl. "It means we're nothing more than animals if we can't even get along with one another."

A lazy and appreciative smile curled his lips as he quickly nodded his head once, tucking his hands into his slacks as he released a short sigh. "Yes, m'dear, you are exactly right. Though, it does hold many different meanings. Another might observe that it simply means that mankind will continue to evolve and will push out the remaining lesser-evolved creatures in the Animal Kingdom, but your observation is one that I, myself, tend to agree with. Now, let's make our way up to the top. Please, remember to not use the flash on your cameras should you choose to take any pictures. I expect you all to, by the way," he warned, motioning for the students to lead the way.

There was rustle of movement as they made their way up the remaining stairs, expressions varying from person to person. Some seemed to have really taken in Hank's impromptu speech, and I couldn't help but hope that they would take it to heart.

_Lovely job_, I beamed at him as I slipped my digital camera out of my clutch purse, and trailed behind the group.

"Pop quiz," I announced, smiling to myself at the collective groan that echoed through the crowd.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **** This Charles Darwin quote was taken directly from a quotes resource. Therefore, if it is taken out of context, I sincerely apologize. And I am aware of the fact that many people will have a different opinion regarding the quote and what it means, but I feel that it could have multiple meanings. And it says something _lovely_ about the students if one can see it in such a manner. Also, the only time I've visited D.C., the grounds and walk-area leading up to the Lincoln Memorial was under construction, being worked on, etc. But, I tried to make sure that my own mental memory of the place did not dampen the beauty that is one of America's greatest monuments.


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

* * *

><p><em>"Attraction is not a choice." - <em>David DeAngelo

_**-Chapter Eleven-**_

"Dinner was fabulous," I grunted as I stretched my arms over my head and peered around the large hotel suite. "I don't even want to know what sort of bill we racked up."

"The Professor said that they deserved a few treats." Towel draped over his shoulder, Scott exited the room that he'd won from Logan and leaned against the wall lazily. "A bunch of the kids were heading down to the pool and I was thinking about going on down with them. Care to join me?"

I considered it a moment before quickly shaking my head. "I've got a bit of a headache. I think I'm going to have a nice bath and make it an early night. Be sure to look in on Logan." His jaw clenched at the mention of the man's name, but he nodded his head quickly. "He's been down in one of the bars since we got back."

"Later, Mac," he muttered, brushing past me as he slipped out of the suite, letting the door click shut behind him.

"Bye, Slim," I murmured to the empty suite. Hank had excused himself after we'd arrived back at the hotel, claiming that he had a few things to take care of while we were at the Capital. Jubilee had suggested taking advantage of the hotel's impressive indoor pool, and the others had readily agreed.

I padded barefoot into my room, dropping my heels at the foot of my bed before searching through the hotel for the young woman in question. Despite her recent control over her mutation, Rogue had apparently declined an opportunity to join the others for a swim and was sitting alone near the lobby. As I pulled a set of night clothes from the armoire, I considered going downstairs to keep her company, changing my mind after her thoughts brightened and a certain someone sat down to keep her company.

As I chuckled to myself, I slipped into the master bathroom and curled my toes against the cool tile floor. Using my TK, I quickly turned the taps on full force, letting the steaming hot water gush into the large tub fit-for-two. _Hrm, music in the bathroom?_ I thought to myself as I spotted a controller for the music system that ran through the entire suite. Deftly, I found a suitable jazz station and slipped out of my clothes and into the steaming water, purring contentedly.

An hour and a half later found me curled up on one of the leather couches in the sitting area, my damp hair fanned about my face and my legs curled under me. I leaned against the comfortable pile of throw pillows comfortably as I caused the channels to switch with a mere thought, frowning at the overabundance of cop dramas.

"Hi Hank," I called out lazily as I heard someone enter. He shuffled into the room quickly, toeing off his shoes before motioning for me to lift my legs. I swung them upwards, waiting until he'd settled down before letting my feet drape over his lap comfortably. Forgoing laying upon the throw pillows, I sat up slightly and offered him a smile in welcome. "Did your thing go well?"

"Ah, yes," he murmured, his fingers reaching up to pull at the collar of his shirt. "Trish left me several messages on my phone, and I needed to return her call."

I grimaced slightly at the way that he sighed her name, as though merely talking to her had been painful in some way. Instead of touching his mind with mine and seeing if he was okay, I decided to ask. "Everything okay?"

"In a manner of speaking," he managed, shaking his head. Limply, he let his head fall back against the couch, releasing a sigh that caused his chest to expand. "She wanted to let me know that she and her ex-husband have reconciled. They're getting re-married next month and she wanted to invite me to the wedding."

My stomach clenched uncomfortably as I winced visibly, feeling angry on his part. "Did you tell her to jump off of a cliff?"

He barked a laugh as his body rumbled, causing the couch to vibrate slightly. "No, pet, I did not. Though it may be small of me to admit it, I now wish that I would have. Of course I gave her my blessings and wished her a long and happy marriage. She was nervous at first, almost afraid. Within a few minutes, she was jabbering on and on about wedding plans and how she had recently been promoted to an anchor woman."

"Are you happy for her?" I asked, afraid of the answer.

He seemed to consider the question for a long moment, his eyes closed and his body burrowed against the couch. "After my second mutation reared it's blue head -if you'll excuse my pun- , we were on the rocks. We had been engaged for so long, and I was fine with that. Simply _knowing_ that we planned to spend the rest of our lives together was enough. But then- Then I became this, Mac. I became this beast of a man that-"

"You're not a beast," I interrupted sharply, leaning forward so that I could rest my hand on his shoulder. His muscles tightened under my touch, but I refused to pull my hand away. "And if someone ever says such a thing to you, they'll spend the rest of their lives thinking that they're a duck."

He laughed again, shaking his head as his hands fell into his lap and atop my feet. Almost thoughtlessly, his soft and callused hands began to knead at my feet, massaging them even as he continued to talk. "After my appearance was publicly revealed, there was a lot of talk of bestiality. I laughed it off at first, assuming that it would simply take a bit of time for people to accept the fact that it wasn't some sort of strange publicity stunt. Of course, I failed to realize that Trish wasn't laughing along with me."

"Was it the publicity or simply her opinion?"

"Perhaps a combination of both," he responded softly, a sigh escaping his lips. "She was fearful, frightened. If I may be so candid- She was unwilling to allow me to take her to bed afterwards. Trish continued to claim that she needed time to adjust that-"

"She's a moron," I grunted, curling my toes in his hands as his fingers rubbed out the soreness. "I'm serious, Hank. Anyone that lets differences like that get in the way..."

"She was always so smart," he continued. "We always had so much to talk about. She was interested, really interested, in my views on peace between mutants and non-mutants. My research entranced her, and she supported me. But, we were both so busy with our own careers. Somehow," he paused, his hands going still, "I found myself stepping into the role of a politician and ignoring my scientific background. I had always been the man behind the curtain before then, I think. Perhaps that's what changed it all."

"Trish was jealous of your popularity," I offered.

"In a way, I think she was," he agreed. "Things were somewhat rocky, but I had faith that it would work out in the end. I went back to the School for Jean's funeral and when I got back to my apartment, she had moved out. There were- It was as if she had never been there in the first place. She'd left a message on the counter with her apologizes, explaining that it wasn't working out. I tried calling her," he admitted, his voice gruffer than normal. "I left her so many blasted messages that it's simply ridiculous. But, this is the first time she's ever called me."

Silence filled the room for a number of moments, the previously recorded newscast on the television forgotten. I brushed my damp hair behind my ear and found myself aching to reach out for him mentally, to reassure him that he hadn't deserved that sort of abuse. Instead, I scooted forward and wrapped my arms around him, sitting in his lap as I buried my face against his neck.

_I'm sorry that she hurt you._

**I know you are, pet**, he purred, his hand warm against my dull green night shirt as he rubbed circles on my back. **It hurts sometimes, but then I remember that I have friends that will always be there for me.**

Smiling, I leaned back and braced my hands on his shoulders, hair falling over my left shoulder as I nodded in agreement. _I will always be there for you, Hank. I'm sorry that I was gone for so long. I was so stupid, so wrapped up in myself that-_

My thoughts swirled into a mess of colors and emotions as he leaned forward suddenly, pressing his warm lips gently against mine. Stunned, I went stiff in his embrace, body hyper aware as his fingers trailed up my back to tangle in my wet hair. I released a groan, causing him to slide his warm tongue into my mouth gently.

Stars exploded behind my eyes as he sought and probed gently, his outward appearance belying his gentleness as his fingers roamed over my lower back to grip my hip, even as the fingers of his other hand remained tangled in my hair. Involuntarily, I found myself looping my arms around his neck tightly, shifting slightly so that I was straddling his lap on my knees.

He released a groan, both of his hands wandering downwards to grip me by the hips as he pressed me against him intimately. Despite my flannel night clothes and his slacks, I could feel his want, his desire. It was hard and made me ache, and I found myself fighting the urge to rub myself against him like a hormonal teenager. Instead, I focused on his mouth, the feel of his tongue, the way that he seemed to be savoring every single caress.

_Hank, what are we doing?_ I found myself asking him even as he slipped a hand up the back of my night shirt, sending a shiver down my spine. I had thought that it had been sinful enough to have his lips against mine, and yet the feel of his soft hand on my bare skin made me want to shed my clothes and his.

**Something that I've wanted to do for a very long time**, he rumbled, letting out a short growl as he thrust his hips upward. Both of his hands came down again, gripping my ass tightly as he moaned against my mouth. **My stars and garters, Mackenzie, you taste so good.**

I mewed in need as my hands began to roam over his chest, reveling in the feel of his soft furry chest as I slipped my hand between the few unbuttoned slits. His grip on me tightened in response as I fumbled with the third button, struggling to slip it through the fabric as I nibbled on his lower lip.

The suite door swung open unexpectedly, startling me and causing me to roll off of Hank's lap and onto the couch beside him almost instantly. A voice called out distantly, the sound distorted as my pulse pounded wildly in my ears. My chest heaved with every breath as the lights in the room flickered slightly, causing me to grimace as I struggled to regain control over my clearly overactive telekinesis.

I somehow managed to squeak out a goodnight before I fumbled over my own feet, ignoring Hank's probing gaze as I slipped into my own room and pressed my back against the closed door.

_To be continued_, I murmured in his direction, my body shivering in response when his laughter rumbled in my mind.

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><p><strong>AN:** Bowchicka? Hahaha. Sorry if that was a little more mature than you were expecting. Just about as bad as it gets, save for a much later chapter. Thanks for reading.


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

* * *

><p><em>"Loyalty is the same, whether it win or lose the game; true as a dial to the sun, although it be not shined upon." - <em>Samuel Butler

_**-Chapter Twelve-**_

The three day weekend ended with a long tour through the crowded Holocaust Museum. The museum itself offered an impressive tour through the history of the horrible tragedy, and we begrudgingly allowed a tour guide to walk us through the many corridors.

There were sniffles and outright tears from several members of our party, and by the time we were standing outside in the bright sunshine, some of the happiness had been sucked out of us.

A headache blossomed behind my eyes, but I refused to let it bother me as we hurried down the crowded sidewalk. I grimaced slightly as Logan brushed past me, lazily throwing his arm around Rogue's shoulders as he swaggered down the busy sidewalk like he didn't have a care in the world. And, while I'd refrained from getting the information from either of their minds, I had it on good authority that they'd become more than just friends.

I felt his presence next to me as he lumbered up beside me, clearly ignoring the occasional gasp from onlookers as he reached for my hand. A smile, slow and lazy, spread across my face as I slipped my hand into his, twining my fingers through his. It was odd how things had changed over the course of a few days. There were more casual touches, gentle brushes of his hand across my arm or even my fingers dancing over the lapel of his jacket. We hadn't discussed the heated moment that we'd shared in the dark, sprawled indecently across the couch.

And yet we'd crossed some boundary that caused us to be just one step away from friends and yet too far away to be considered an actual item.

**Mackenzie**, the voice of Charles Xavier echoed in my head so abruptly that I tightened my grip on Hank's hand to the point where he released a faint gasp of pain. I mumbled an apology and squeezed his hand gently as he led me down the sidewalk toward the parking lot where the X-Bus was parked. **I hope that the plans to leave shortly are still set in stone.**

_They are indeed_, I agreed. _We're almost to the bus now, actually. Is there-_

**I am expecting a few arrivals this evening, and I wanted to verify that you all would be here in time for dinner. I shall have the cooks hold it until you are closer to the Institute. **His voice sounded tired, and I found myself wondering if something was causing him undue stress. **Do not worry about me, my dear. I will be fine. Do have a safe trip back to us.**

Smiling, I nodded my head, sending him a quick goodbye before his familiar warmth left my mind. _Scott, the Professor just checked in. He wants us to do our best to make it back on schedule. Are we almost to the bus?_

He sighed mentally before nodding. **Almost. **"We're almost there everyone!" he called out over the roar of the busy sidewalk.

Soon we'd made it to the parking lot and were boarding, double-checking that our baggage was properly stored before Scott pulled out of the lot. It took us nearly an hour to get out of the city, and nearly another forty-five minutes to make it to the interstate. But, by the time we were easing along at a comfortable seventy miles-per-hour, I was sitting in the back of the bus with Hank.

We still hadn't discussed the kiss, or even the fact that we'd clearly become more than friends. Instead, we sat together in the relative silence, our hands laced together as I rested my head upon his shoulder and rested my eyes while he flipped through _The Daily Bugle_.

I nodded off sometime before we entered New York state, and woke up as we pulled into the long drive leading to the School. Hank spared me a quick smile and a casual brush of fingers against my cheek before we followed the rest of the students and disembarked from the X-Bus. Everyone parted ways in order to go to their rooms to unpack. And, an hour later, we met in the dining room to share dinner despite the fact that everyone was quite tired and it was well past the students' curfew.

As per usual, Xavier sat at the head of the table with Ororo at his right. Yet, it was the unexpected appearance of the blonde-haired woman and the red-headed man to his left that caused me to pause in my tracks even as the others trickled in hesitantly. Piercing blue eyes, cold icy blue that seemed connected to a chilly soul, met mine almost instantly as I looked at the woman in confusion. Her touch in my mind was almost brutal, cold and completely callous as she brushed against my mind. I felt her prod at my shields fleetingly before retreating completely, her silver-painted lips curling in a smile.

"Mackenzie Benton," she murmured, her voice laced with an obvious northeastern accent. Hands folded on the table in front of her, she inclined her head slightly, causing her ash-blond hair to fall over her left shoulder perfectly. "This certainly is the last place that I thought I'd ever see you."

My feet moved of their own volition, ignoring my contemplation to bolt and simply escape while I still had a chance. Instead, my lips curled into what I hoped was a small smile as I slid into a chair between Hank and Scott, ignoring the way that her eyes raked over me from head to foot.

"Emma," I murmured, settling into my seat. "What a surprise to see you here. I wasn't aware that the Professor was interested in having questionable characters such as yourself in his school." Pointedly, I focused on the opened bottle of white wine in front of her and lifted it with my TK, my eyes never leaving her face as I slowly poured myself a glass of wine. Having placed the bottle back on the table in front of her, I lifted my glass to my lips and took a short sip.

_I take it Emma and her companion are the arrivals that you mentioned? _I inquired, lips pursed as Scott cleared his throat. _I can see why you ensured that her name was left out of the conversation, Professor._

**Now, now, Mackenzie. It has been nearly a decade since you two were even in the same room. Surely you can-**

_As far as you know_, I interrupted, fighting the urge to shake my head at the surprise that was evident in his tone. _We've attended several of the same functions over the years, and I can assure you that Emma Frost wants nothing to do with you, this school, or me._

"My, I get the strangest feeling that the two of you are discussing me behind my back," she murmured, her voice laced with the faintest hint of amusement. "Perhaps we could ignore the telepathic conversation and handle this like adults? After all, I am sure that everyone here," she lifted a perfectly manicured hand and motioned to the table, "would like to hear what it is that you have to say."

Feigning ignorance, I reached forward and grabbed the nearest platter, scooping a small portion of broccoli on my plate before passing it to my left. "I have nothing to say to you, Emma. I think we've said enough to one another already."

"Are you really so petty that you would hold a grudge after all this time?" she demanded, her voice icy. A chuckle exited her painted lips, tainted with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. "I had it on good authority that you'd mellowed, Mackenzie."

"Mellowed?" I repeated, ignoring the platter of food that Hank offered me. "I'm sorry, Emma. Are you implying something?"

She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her palm as she rested her elbow on the dining room table. "Why yes, I am. I find it hard to believe that you have the audacity to question my presence here when you left long before I did. Oh, did I push a button? You are the one that turned your back on the School first. Xavier and I have reconciled our _differences_ as they may be."

"Your differences? You slipped into the role of the powerful CEO gracelessly, Emma. You pooled your resources and started another school, another place for mutant children." I clutched at the lace tablecloth, my nails nearly ripping into it as I clenched my jaw tightly. "_You_ are the one that let all of those children die, Emma. You are the one that decided to use them for those damned Hellfire imbeciles! You and you alone are _responsible_ for that!"

I expected her to push away from the table, enraged, and exit the room haughtily. Instead, she narrowed her gaze and shook her head. "I accepted responsibility for my actions long ago, Mackenzie. As Professor Xavier is well aware, I left the Hellfire Club almost immediately. Ever since then, Sean and I have been traveling the globe helping young mutants. We've brought half a dozen promising students along with us-"

"It's true," Xavier interrupted, causing me to pull my probing gaze away from Emma and instead focus on him. "Sean Cassidy," he motioned to the redheaded man that managed a nod in my direction, "recently contacted me and explained that he and Emma were exploring the possibility of reopening the Massachusetts Academy. As I'm sure you're all aware, the school was one for mutants, one much smaller than our own. Several years ago, it suffered a brutal attack that left over ninety-five percent of the student body dead or missing."

"Emma was the headmistress," Kitty supplied, her voice meek. "I remember. She kept trying to get me to go there. Same with Jubes."

He nodded his head slowly as he laced his hands together. "Due to our severe shorthandedness, I decided to offer both Sean and Emma a position here as an instructor. However, they've yet to accept the offer to join the X-Men, and have agreed to allow Scott and-"

"You're serious?" I demanded, stomach twisting uncomfortably. "You're going to offer this woman a job here?"

"No," Emma replied icily, causing me to rivet my gaze to her expressionless face. "He _offered_ me a position here. I'm pleased to announce that I'm accepting, Mackenzie darling."

Wordlessly, I pushed away from the table and turned my back on them, ignoring the Professor's mental pleas as I stalked out of the room furiously. Blond locks fell over my eyes as my feet lifted off of the floor. Confusion, annoyance, fear, hatred; it all swept through me as I used my telekinesis to lift myself off of the floor and stream out into the night air through an opened window.

**Running away from the problem isn't the solution.**

Gritting my teeth, I lowered myself in the air and let my feet touch upon the damp grass as I folded my arms over my chest. _Pretending that there isn't one doesn't fix anything either_, I reminded him before shutting him out completely. _Pretending is why you all lost Jean_.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

* * *

><p>"<em>Excellence is an art won by training and habituation. We do not act rightly because we have virtue or excellence, but we rather have those because we have acted rightly. We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act but a habit." - <em>Aristotle

_**-Chapter Thirteen-**_

"Correction, Mr. Keller," I narrowed my gaze at the young man kneeling on the bed of grass in front of me. "Assuming that your opponent is weaker than you is _not_ the best course of action."

He glanced up at me, his chest heaving as sweat beaded down his brow profusely. The standard training uniform for such a nice day - comfortable running shoes, shorts, and a tank - seemed to do little to keep him cool under the scorching afternoon sun. "Yeah. Well. Whatever," he grunted.

Lips pursed, I lifted a hand and righted the park bench that had been toppled in our brief sparring match, eyes never leaving his form. "You have a great deal of brute strength, but you lack finesse. Stand up," I ordered gently, folding my arms over my chest as he staggered to his feet and stretched out his aching limbs. "Again."

He lifted his hands slowly, blue eyes narrowed in absolute concentration as he focused on the arrangement of tulips that I had spread out in a semicircle in front of him. The object of the exercise was to force him to strengthen the muscle, so to speak, that controlled his telekinesis.

During the first few training exercises in the Danger Room, he had shown a great deal more promise than I had anticipated after Emma had explained that she had personally groomed him. I trusted the woman's judgment far less than I trusted her personally. Yet, I had been delightfully surprised when Julian Keller had effortlessly swiped away a car moving at full speed and sent it careening out of sight. He was able to form telekinetic shields around himself or another person with ease, and the shield itself had withstood a brutal attack from both Voltic and Colossus.

And yet, when asked to lift another person in the air, he had nearly caused Jubilee to lose a limb. What was more, however, was his inability to expand his shield to include a larger group. He smashed a boulder into millions of pieces with a brute telekinetic force, and could not lift all of the single pieces at will.

Yet, after our second session alone, he had already shown improvement. The strain it caused him was evident in his haggard features and sweaty appearance, and yet he rarely muttered a complaint. I assumed it was because of Emma's grooming, and I wasn't entirely wrong.

"I see you're still at these pointless practice sessions," she called out as she crossed the lawns to stand next to me. I'd sensed her presence, and had watched as she swept out of the patio doors and across the immaculate lawn dressed in a skimpy outfit that would have made a lesser woman extremely self-conscious. "If anything, you should have him practicing his lifting capabilities.

I spared her a glance, eyes raking over her form before focusing on Julian yet again. "Emma, which of us is a telekinetic?"

She let out a short huff of air as she brushed her long ash-blond hair locks out of her face. "I hardly see what that has to do with it."

"It has absolutely everything to do with it," I insisted as I glanced over at her, ignoring the few strands of hair that managed to pull free of my ponytail. "Telekinesis is a lot like telepathy; it's all about the strength of your mind. Yet, it takes practice and control in order to be precise, to perform at a certain level. He shows a lot of promise," I admitted begrudgingly.

"He certainly does," she agreed, placing her hands on her hips as we watched him slowly pluck the petals of the tulips one by one. His goal was to pluck each petal one by one, forming the shape of a flower with said petals while keeping all of the flowers in the air in the bundle. I knew it was straining, and if the quivering mass of tulips were any indication - he wasn't enjoying himself. "I suppose that I should be thankful that you're willing to work with him at all."

"And I suppose I should be considerate of the fact that it's not entirely his fault that you were his guide. After all, it's not exactly his fault that you're an unethical, bigoted bi-"

"Now, now, Mackenzie," she clucked her tongue, batting her lashes in my direction as she turned to position herself between Julian and myself. "Surely our little chat the other day eased the tension between us? I grow tired of the constant bickering."

Instead of replying, I focused my attention on Julian, frowning to myself as the tulips in his telekinetic grasp continued to shake slightly. _I've agreed to remain here on a probationary basis, Emma. Until I'm certain that your intentions are not the least malevolent, I remain undecided_. I cast her an appraising look before clearing my throat, causing Julian's project to fall to the lawn in tattered shreds.

He hissed a number of curses under his breath as he brushed his fingers through his short black hair, blue eyes narrowed at the flowers at his feet. "Dang, I was close that time."

"It's important to be able to multitask," I assured him, lifting a hand and sending the flowers careening into the air in a cyclone. "You have to be able to file everything away and keep it organized. It's like splitting your mind into different compartments in order to keep track of it all. While it sounds a bit daunting, it's entirely possible." I paused, sparing Emma another glance before dropping the flowers and their discarded petals in a paper bag that I'd brought along for cleanup. "The important question is how do you feel?"

His shoulders went lax as he used his own telekinesis to ease the paper bag out of my telekinetic grasp to fold the top of it carefully. "Tired," he admitted glumly, dropping the bag on the ground at his feet. "I literally feel like I just ran ten miles, barefoot, in the blistering hot sun without any breaks or water. Oh, hi Miss Frost."

"Hello Julian," she offered him a curt nod. "I see that your private sessions with Dr. Benton are going well. Would you mind excusing us?"

He nodded quickly before jogging back toward the patio door that she had left open, sparing a quick wave over his shoulder before disappearing inside.

Ignoring her, I turned on my heel and walked toward the greenhouse, intending to check in on Ororo; she had disappeared inside some hour ago. A cold shiver raced up the back of my neck, making me shudder as she brushed against my mind. "Did you want something?" I sighed, pausing to turn and look at her.

She was a startling contrast to the colorful scenery around her. Despite the fact that she claimed to no longer be part of the Hellfire Club, she was garbed in all white. Her outfit alone turned the heads of most of the male population and was very form-fitting. "I think it is long past time that we talk about this rift between us."

_Rift?_ I spat, balling my hands at my sides. _I have nothing to say to you after the way you manipulated those kids, Emma. I had thought your terrible actions at that event were appalling, but what you did to those children topped even that._

**I can assure you that I am well aware of my past wrongdoings, Mackenzie**. Her eyes were cool and calm as she slowly folded her arms across her chest. **We got along well enough when we attended school here, did we not?**

I thought back to a time long since passed, to a time where we had once been hesitant friends. Emma had only been a part-time student the year that I'd attended Xavier's School for the Gifted. She visited a few days a week, and we'd been at least hesitant friends. Due to our similar gifts, she, Jean, and I had worked together with the Professor. Yet, even before Jean went off to college, there had been a definite rift between the three of us that had been evident to the others.

_We were too much alike_, I admitted, feeling a bit ashamed at the realization. _We both came from money, had a clear grasp over our powers._

**We both loathed the way that Jean constantly made herself out to be a martyr**, she murmured, no emotion at all in her mental voice. **She was so scared of herself, and hated the fact that we relished in our control.**

_You make it sound like we were conceited_. I clenched my jaw as I considered her point of view. When I'd first joined the Xavier Institute, I was nearly seventeen. My mutation had manifested when I was twelve and I had learned to cope with my telekinesis and my telepathy over the next several years. Of course, Xavier had helped me to gain even more control over my telepathy; which at the time had been sorely lacking. Jean had been working with him for over five years, and yet I had more control, more raw power, than her.

**Conceited is a strong word. I would prefer to think that we were simply comfortable with our limitations. We were familiar with our strengths, our weaknesses, and knew how to improve.** She crossed the distance between us slowly, her icy blue eyes never leaving mine. **It wasn't fair of Xavier to pit Jean against us; whether we were separate or united.**

I furrowed my brow as I offered her a curt nod, thinking back to the multiple times that we had faced Jean on the astral plane. She'd had so much raw power that it was often overwhelming, and yet she'd always lacked the strength, the perseverance to use it to her advantage. _She was always so afraid of herself, so afraid to let go._

**She wasn't afraid to sacrifice herself for them**, she murmured softly, pausing when she stood next to me. Almost hesitantly, she reached over and rested a hand on my shoulder, her perfectly manicured fingernails digging into my skin gently as she squeezed my shoulder reassuringly. **Xavier claims that she'd gained more control over her telekinesis, but it wasn't until the dam broke that she really showed her full potential.**

I swallowed thickly, picturing the scene that had been described. _That's what doesn't make any sense, Emma. If she was able to hold back that great of a force- something that I find surprising considering her past- and power up the Blackbird at the same time... Why in the hell didn't she do it all while she was onboard?_

She remained motionless, her lips curving into a faint smirk as she retracted her hand and started walking toward the greenhouse yet again. I remained rooted in place, my eyes focused on the green grass as the wind nipped at my hair.

**You and I both know the answer to that question, Mackenzie. Though, I'm sure we have varying opinions. Jean was a martyr. She never even considered staying aboard. She's never viewed the world as realistically as the rest of us. **

_She saved their lives_, I managed, closing my eyes tightly. Part of me wanted to think that if I had been there that things would have been different. If I had been there, Jean and I would have been able to work together in order to hold the water back so that Scott and Ororo could get the jet off of the ground. If I had been there... _At least her grand hurrah counted for something._

**Indeed. Now, you may want to scurry on and finish changing for your date tonight. Oh, don't glare at me like that, darling. Strengthen your shields. Any meager telepath could see that you have a certain blue man on your mind.**

Clenching my fists at my sides, I waved a hand over my shoulder and caused the greenhouse door to swing open viciously at Emma. Of course, her diamond form prevented any serious injury.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

* * *

><p>"<em>If I never met you, I wouldn't like you. If I didn't like you, I wouldn't love you. If I didn't love you, I wouldn't miss you. But I did, I do, and I will."- <em>Unknown

_**-Chapter Fourteen-**_

It wasn't until after the valet had opened my door and offered me his white-gloved hand that it all really sank in. A faint smile curled my lips and my very fingertips began to tingle as I slowly looped my arm through Hank's, eyes raking over his impeccably dressed form as he led me into the impressive restaurant.

I racked my mind quickly, trying to remember the article in the _Daily Bugle_ some weeks back that had claimed the restaurant was the next up-and-coming sensation of the city. The outside had been impressive enough, but when we stepped inside and I smelt the wondrous scents of food, my mouth began to water.

"Reservation for McCoy," Hank spoke brusquely to the maître d'.

The man, a short and pale man with striking black hair and a beak of a nose, stared at my companion for a long moment before running his finger over the large book on the podium in front of him. "McCoy? I'm sorry, sir, but it would seem as though your name is not on the books."

Hank stiffened beside me at the man's obvious snootiness, and I found myself hugging myself tighter to him in reassurance. I slowly brushed against the man's mind, skimming his surface thoughts and groaning inwardly at the prejudice and disgust that I found. It took very little effort to convince him to look again and to tell the truth, even if it did leave him confused. With a bit more concentration, I convinced him that Hank was a tall, burly man with enticing black hair and a fair complexion - like he used to be.

"Ah, it would seem that apologies are in order." He bowed grandly as he stepped out from behind his podium, his striking tuxedo catching in the soft overhead lighting. "Please allow me to show you to your table. I took the privilege of arranging for a quiet location, if that pleases the gentleman?" he inquired, brow quirked as he led us through the restaurant.

To avoid the gasps and stares, I mentally cloaked my companion, making him appear to be his pre-fur self. He stiffened slightly, sparing me a look that promised we would talk of the moment later.

The table the maître d' spoke of was placed in a corner in front of a large picture window that looked out onto the colorful park in the adjacent lot. Grandly, he pulled out one of the chairs, waiting until I'd taken my seat before gently scooting me towards the table. After Hank was seated, he clasped his hands in front of us and handed us two oversized menus that he must have grabbed from his podium or somewhere along the way. "May I be so bold as to suggest a wine that would please the lady's delicate palette?"

Hank nodded, his eyes on mine. "That would be perfect, thank you."

The man kissed his fingers before nodding, giving a slight bow as he bustled away, no doubt to make sure that we received our wine. I slowly opened the menu, scanning over its offerings before releasing a short sigh and meeting Hank's gaze.

"I'm sorry, Hank," I murmured, worrying at my lower lip. "You know I didn't mean anything by -"

"There's no need to apologize, pet," he assured me. Still, his voice carried a bit of emotion that seemed tinged with at least a hint of remorse, possibly regret. "It merely saddens me that such lengths are needed in order to dine out with such a lovely companion. But, tell me," he reached across the table with one hand, cupping my right hand and softly stroking my palm. "Does it bother you?"

My mind went blank for a moment as he stroked my pulse, causing my fingertips to tingle as I quickly shook my head. "Not in the way that you mean. I promise," I added when he lifted a brow in doubt. "It's just disappointing how close-minded some people can be. You and I both know that it is sometimes easier to slip by than to take center stage. I just - I'm selfish for wanting one perfect night out with you, aren't I?"

His lips curled into a slow, gentle smile as his fingers continued to dance across my pulse. "My, how you boost my suffering ego. I must confess that I've been extremely nervous about tonight for the last several days - since asking you out, actually. I'm relieved that you were looking forward to tonight as well."

"Of course," I agreed, everything but him completely forgotten as I sighed slowly, attempting to relax. "Have I told you that you look handsome tonight?" And he did. His custom-tailored slate gray suit was coupled with a warm cream shirt and a white and gray striped tie.

"You haven't, no," he murmured softly, his eyes sparkling. "Might I reiterate the fact that you look simply delectable in that lovely little black number? Because, my pet, you do."

I felt the blush creep up my neck as he was forced to retract his hand as the waiter and the maître d' appeared simultaneously. Neither spared Hank a second glance, thanks to a bit of mental persuasion on my part. As the age-old practice of wine tasting began, I couldn't help but let my thoughts wander.

Part of me wondered why I had never dated a man like Hank before. It was odd, really. I wasn't exactly unattractive, I wasn't hurting for money, and I had always been seen as successful in the world of medicine. I'd published several things before I'd even started my residency, and by the time I'd climbed the ranks to department head of emergency medicine, I'd been regarded as one of the best doctors in my field. And yet, I'd never been on a single date wherein I'd felt as though I were my date's sole interest.

I'd never had a man look at me the way that Hank did with every single caressing glance.

Self-conscious, I brushed a lock of hair behind my ear and glanced down at my attire. The little off the shoulder number had seemed like a foolish and impulsive buy weeks ago on a shopping excursion with Ororo, but she had been right; it fit me beautifully. While it showed a bit more cleavage than I felt was appropriate, it was both elegant and sexy at the same time. I'd paired it with a pair of to-die-for strappy heels that had set me back far more than I was willing to admit to anyone. I'd left my hair down, doing little more to it than letting a bit of the natural curl come out to give it some bounce.

I hadn't exactly gone to extreme lengths for the date. In fact, when I'd still been fluttering around in the elite circles, I'd been known to drop nearly a thousand dollars on a pre-date routine of shopping, hair treatments and mani-pedi day at the salon. I often spent hours agonizing over lingerie, debating on what exactly would cause my fling of the moment to drop to his knees in simple need at the sight of me.

Yet, with Hank it seemed so natural. It seemed so simple and complete to sip a glass of wine and make light talk about what looked good to eat. Our casual touches and laughter made me feel light with energy.

"I'm thinking about trying the lamb," I admitted as I struggled to select a suitable main course. We had agreed to forgo cocktails and an appetizer in favor of an entree and a shared dessert. Peering over my menu, I found him watching me with so much intensity that I found myself stiffening under his gaze. "Hank? Is something wrong?"

Again, that slow and lazy smile curled his lips as he laid his menu face-up on the table and reached across with both hands. Instinctively, I followed suit, reveling in the feel of his hands cupping mine as he lifted my hands to his lips. Eyes still on me, he ran his lips over my knuckles gently, giving my hands another soft squeeze before he released them.

"Looking into your eyes is like taking a breath of fresh air. Your face is so alluring, Mackenzie." His voice was filled with wonder, and laced with enough heat to make my mouth go dry. "May I confess something to you?"

I blinked in surprise, and slowly nodded. "Of course."

"I had quite the crush on you years ago." He let out a chuckle as he took a short sip of his wine. I suddenly found myself thankful for the fact that he generally only wore his glasses for reading, and that there was nothing blocking his shining orbs. "But, I was younger, less sure of myself. I spent as much time in the lab hiding from you as I did vying for your attention. You were always so sure of yourself, so confident and calm. You were quite impressive, you know." He paused for a moment, his lips curling into a smile. "It was always amazing watching you train, and I envied the long hours that you spent with Jean and Emma."

"We were trying to help one another," I assured him. "At least back then we could be in the same room with one another without it resulting in violence." It made me feel ashamed, thinking back to all of the times that we had nearly been at one another's throats years after we had been peers at the Xavier Institute.

He lifted a hand as if to stop me from further incriminating myself. "I simply remember how bold, how regal, how unbelievably fierce you were with everything in life. You tackled every obstacle in your path like a battle-honed warrior, pet. It amazed and frightened me at the same time; you were like some golden-haired goddess."

I blushed and found myself cringing at the compliment. "Hank, I -"

"No." He lifted a hand, stopping me. "I'm not in awe of you like some feeble-minded imbecile that wishes to fall at your feet, Mackenzie. No, that is not the kind of man that will hold your interest for long. I've seen you date that type before, and -"

"Wait. What?" I stared at him open-mouthed. "How would you know who -"

"We often attended the same events, though I can safely say that we never really crossed paths," he assured me, his face alight with laughter. "More often than not, you were surrounded by so many people that it likely would have taken an order from the President himself to part the crowd. But, I didn't mind. Not so much. It was almost as pleasant to simply watch the way that you moved; so graceful, so agile and sure." He smiled slightly as he brushed his chin gently, no doubt thinking back to the time in question. "There was this one gala during the Holidays that Trish dragged me to ages ago. I remember being so impatient, so annoyed at the fact that I was spending the eve of Christmas Eve in a room filled with so many pompous asses when I suddenly caught sight of something red. I don't even know how long Trish stood there, frustrated and unappreciated as I watched this beautiful angel of a woman descend the stairs, a faceless man beside her."

I sucked in a deep breath as I found myself pressing against his thoughts gently, urging him to share the moment with me. As if he'd been anticipating the action, he readily shared the memory, allowing me to slip into the role that he had played as I watched myself descend the grand staircase at a nameless hotel. Everything in the memory was blurry and out of focus except for me dressed in a stunning red gown that my escort for the evening had purchased for me as a Christmas gift. And, for the first time in my entire life, I realized just how special I could be in the eyes of another.

_This_, I whispered in his mind as I retreated from the memory, reaching across the table simultaneously to grasp his large hands between my own. _This is what falling in love feels like._

His eyes twinkled in the romantic candlelight as he nodded slowly. **I fell for you in that moment, Mac. I just didn't realize it. I - I want this to be more than a casual thing. If that doesn't suit you then -**

"That's perfect," I managed, nodding my head quickly. "This - it's all so perfect."


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

* * *

><p>"<em>When in doubt, tell the truth<em>_.__ "—_Mark Twain

**_-Chapter Fifteen__-_**

"I've continued to keep an ear to the ground, so to speak, in regards to any suspicious activities regarding missing mutants."

Crossing my legs, I folded my hands in my lap and watched the data fly across the screen in rapid succession, doing my best to memorize every excruciating detail. The War Room, aptly named, had been put to use only two times since I'd returned to the Institute nearly three months ago. So, when Xavier had sent out a mental bulletin for all X-Men (and even Jr. X-Men) to meet downstairs immediately, I knew something was up.

"Over the last several days, I've been tracking the movements of three mutants that, I believe, have joined Magneto's cause." Scott clicked a button and the overhead monitor changed to a picture of three women, all of whom looked rough for wear. "They have all been in the San Francisco area for the last week, and it would seem as though they are investigating something. Since I am unable to truly read their intentions, thanks in part to the distance and in part to the fact that I still have yet to get all of the kinks out of Cerebro- I think it would be best if a group of you were to investigate."

There was a long moment of silence before Ororo gently cleared her throat. "Forgive me, Charles, but exactly _what_ are we investigating?"

"You want us to follow a couple of thugs, Professor?" Scott added, arms folded over his broad chest.

Xavier's brows furrowed slightly as he folded his hands together on the conference table. "I have come across a number of disturbing facts that do not quite line up. The former prison facility on Alcatraz Island has recently undergone several major up hauls that have been contracted to private companies. There's nothing on any public record to indicate what might be going on, and, despite Aubrey's best hacking efforts," he spared the blue-haired woman a slight nod, "we've yet to find any images of the location in question that aren't more than several months old."

**He's quite suspicious of something, darling.**

Frowning, I spared the woman across from me a slight nod before angling my chair toward the large overhead screen. "You think that there is something at this location that worries or, at the very least, interests Magneto," I surmised, tapping the toe of my shoe against the floor gently. "You wouldn't push for this unless you already had some intel to indicate something serious."

"I visited the facility before Jean's death, when they were still in the planning stages." Surprised, I glanced to my right where Hank sat, brows furrowed and eyes focused on the table. "Despite research from other projects, Worthington Industries was certain that they could procure a cure for mutants, if you will. Told them then that I thought that it was preposterous, but, Warren Sr seemed convinced that it was scientifically possible."

"They're makin' a cure?" Rogue piped up, her voice laced with that heavy southern drawl that was distinctly her. "Yah mean-"

"We do not _need_ a cure, Rogue," Ororo interjected, shaking her head quickly. Her ivory locks seemed frizzled with static energy as her blue eyes swept over everyone quickly, encompassing us all as she sighed. "There is nothing wrong with us."

"I agree, Ororo, which is why I informed my overseers that I would not support any longterm project to find a cure. Of course, my resignation was accepted in place of my support," he quipped lightly, a snort rumbling from his chest. "Understandably, I was forced to sign an agreement to nondisclosure, but I recently came to the conclusion that there are things that are more important than a piece of paper. My friends, if they are indeed still pursuing this so-called cure, it could very well be that Magneto has gotten wind and intends to end the process."

"What's he gonna, like, do though? I mean, blowing the place up is kind of..." Jubilee's eyes went wide as she popped her bubble gum loudly, the sound echoing in the room. "That's totally something he'd do. Right?"

"Unfortunately," I murmured, shaking my head slightly. "If we're going to investigate, then we should keep the team small, Xavier. These three," I lifted a hand and motioned to the three distorted faces on the overhead, "are an unknown, but so is this possible facility. And if you truly think that there is a link between their testing and the heavily mentally shielded facility in New Jersey-"

"I do," he interrupted. "I feel strongly that the two are interconnected in some shape or form. And that is what worries me most. Cyclops, I trust you will be able to put together a small and strategic team for this roundabout mission. It goes without saying that delicacy and diplomacy are needed in regards to this situation. Understood?"

In response, Scott turned off the overhead and pushed back from the table, and nodded his head. He stood at the head of the table with an air of authority, completely silent for a number of long moments. "Shadowcat, Gambit, Voltic, Emma, Wolverine, and Halcyon," he paused, his jaw clenched. "The seven of us will investigate. I'm going to split the seven of us in half; four of us will go in the Blackbird and the other three will be in Blackbird II. We leave in forty-five minutes."

Hank stiffened beside me, clearly uneasy with the fact that he hadn't been included on the so-called mission. I questioned Cyclops' decision on the roster momentarily, before begrudgingly admitting that he had put together a suitable team for information gathering. Ideally, I would have included Rogue rather than two telepaths, but beggars simply couldn't be choosers. Emma seemed to agree with my evaluation.

**Would you like me to point out the fact that Scott is bringing along two telepaths, or would you like to?**

I pushed away from the table before placing a chaste kiss on Hank's forehead, causing him to smile slightly before I eased my way through the gathered crowd and out of the room. _You can, if you would like. It doesn't exactly make sense to take both of us. We have no idea what to expect from those three unknowns; it might be more ideal to take one of the heavier hitters._

**I will patch him in, darling. One moment**, she murmured airily as her mind brushed against mine. Had it been mere weeks ago, I would have shut her out of my mind as quickly as possible. But, having come to a mutual understanding with her, I allowed her to weave in a quick telepathic communication line of sorts between the two of us and Scott. **Ah, here he is now.**

** What do you want?** He ordered gruffly, his distrust and annoyance evident in his tone and the flashes of anger that flickered through the connection.

_Any particular reason that you want two telepaths?_ I paused as the elevator doors slid open quickly, stepping inside and pressing the proper number. _Maybe you'd rather-_

**Do you not want to go? It can be arranged to remove you from the rosters, Mackenzie. I would gladly comply**.

Biting down on the inside of my mouth in order to prevent myself from sending him into convulsions, I slowly shook my head. _You know that's not what this is about. We just want to make sure that both of us going is what makes sense. This is about the good of the team, not something that you've concocted in that thick head of yours._

**Did you forget that while you are both telepaths, that you both have other unrelated mutations? **He paused for a moment, as if letting it all sink in. **The Professor is nervous about this whole situation, and Hank's more tight-lipped than usual. It's why he's not going.**

**I suppose it makes sense to ensure that a very recognizable figurehead, even one that long since retired, isn't sighted at what is supposed to be a secret location that he was previously shown**, Emma admitted, her laughter a cool fall breeze in my mind. **Very well. I shall attempt to find something suitable to wear for my first so-called mission as an X-Man. Would you like me to come by your room to show you my selection, Scott?**

There was an uncomfortable silence before she laughed and severed the connection quickly, leaving me smiling at the empty hallway as I made a beeline for my room. Because while I was filled with apprehension, part of me was determined to see the fruits of the project that was behind the so-called mutant cure.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

* * *

><p>"<em>Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from indomitable will."—<em>Mahatma Gandhi

**_-Chapter Sixteen__-_**

The Blackbird had been salvaged by Charles Xavier and his former friend Erik Lehnsherr long before I had ever even heard of the place. The smaller jet, fondly known as Blackbird II, was a newer and much smaller model of the original. Yet, what it lacked in size and technology, it certainly made up in speed.

Yet, flying with a stiff-jawed Cyclops and a grumpy Wolverine was far from enjoyable. Cyclops piloted the craft, and Wolverine sat next to me on two of the three narrow seats that lined the middle of the small jet. It had been decided that a telepath would remain with each group, our group's primary job being to remain back in case the others needed help.

Which made at least a little bit of sense.

"Dammit, One-Eye," Wolverine hissed as the jet shook in the turbulence. "Ya gotta hit every bad patch of shit ya see? Fuck."

Grinning, I shook my head and braced my hands on the armrests. The trip itself was considered short; less than an hour total would see us safely in San Francisco, thanks to the jet's incredible speed. Still, having flown with both Cyclops and Storm, I had to agree that I preferred the latter. Storm had a delicate touch that, when paired with her unique abilities, made every flight bump-less.

"I'm pushing the throttle to the max, Wolverine," the piloting man sneered, no doubt annoyed at the man's presence, let alone mine. "We're nearing the drop-off."

Wolverine grumbled as he shifted in his seat, sparing me a quick glare as I smiled at his misfortune. "Got somethin' to say, Doc?"

I lifted a brow in reply, eyes raking over his form before meeting his gaze yet again. "Fly's undone."

Even as the man huffed and puffed and cursed like nobody's business, Cyclops chuckled heartily. "Emma just touched in and explained that they've disembarked and are currently making their way onto the island. The jet's positioned right off the coast, submerged where the waves won't smash it into an outcropping of rocks. Halcyon, be ready to confuse some people if our invisibility fails." Ever in the role of the leader, he announced the message without any emotion as he maneuvered the small jet carefully.

Fifteen minutes later, he landed the jet on a small outcropping of rocks across the island from where the others had hidden the Blackbird. Due to the jet's advanced technology, he engaged the hover mode as well as the invisibility mode as we clambered out and stood upon the jagged shards of rock that were some eighty feet from the edge of the island.

"Looks like a good fifty foot climb," Wolverine muttered as the waves crashed up, the sea spray causing loose tendrils of hair to stick to my forehead. "Suggestions?"

"Halcyon will fly us up," the other man decided before fixing his gaze on me. "Can you handle that?"

Gritting my teeth, I considered telling him exactly where he could fly off to before nodding my head. Eyes narrowed, I lifted a hand and slowly lifted Cyclops into the air, ignoring his grunt of surprise as I levitated him through the air with my TK. While it was slower than flying us all over at once, I had never flown myself plus two passengers any significant length of distance, and I didn't want to start the mission by losing one of the two most recognized X-Men.

Once he had landed safely, he murmured a go-ahead through the telepathic network that I had set up between the three of us. "Let's go, Doc," Wolverine grunted as I grabbed him by the arm and lifted the both of us into the air.

There's nothing else quite like flying through the air with the wind blowing through your hair. Wolverine didn't exactly agree with my thoughts as we quickly sailed through the air and landed gently on the rocky island next to a crouching Cyclops.

**We've located the facility. Katherine and Voltic are venturing inside for a bit of reconnaissance now, darling. No sign of any guards as of yet.**

I quickly relayed the information to the other two through the telepathic network, nodding when Cyclops inquired if I was ready to move onwards. Several minutes of quiet passed as we crept closer to the outcropping of buildings that had been added over the decades to serve as storage and the like for the well-known prison. Of course, it hadn't been used as a prison since the early 1960s. It had undergone a major make over in the wake of Worthington Industries interest in a so-called mutant cure.

**Gotta couple on up ahead**, Wolverine muttered, the sound of metal scraping against metal greeting my ears as he unsheathed his claws viciously. He spared me a quick glance before continuing up the rough incline, Cyclops following close behind him. I stumbled in the dark, cursing aloud when I nearly lost my footing. But, I managed to keep up with the two of them despite their obvious physical advantage. **Hold it**.

Curious, I let my mind wander, searching for any sign of life, and finding nothing. _I'm not picking up anything. I can't even detect Emma and the others_. It was slightly worrisome, but my gut told me that she had shielded them for their safety. After all, if any of them needed help, we were only a thought away. _Wolverine, do you- Wait_. I narrowed my eyes in concentration, my mind brushing against an unknown entity before I pulled back entirely. _Another telepath._

He nodded in agreement as he lifted a hand, motioning for us to remain in place as he tilted his head back and sniffed the air. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as a strange sound echoed in the silent night air from far away, causing me to turn on my heel and stare into the dark night blindly. Cyclops grabbed me by my elbow and dragged me backwards up the incline, and I stumbled blindly, mind reeling as several mental signatures appeared out of virtually nowhere, blind siding me.

It wasn't often that I was caught by surprise, but as I watched the monumental Golden Gate Bridge swing unnaturally toward the island, I was beyond startled. A guttural gasp escaped my trembling lips as I lifted my hand meekly and shielded us from the falling debris as the bridge croaked overhead. Several figures were barely visible in the darkened night, but my attention was focused on the shrieks of horror that echoed through the night air.

**Shit. Bucket Head**, Wolverine grumbled as he went stiff, his claws retracting as he was slammed into the rocky hillside. I grunted in effort as I wrapped him up with my TK, pulling control away from whoever had manipulated him. Quickly, I sailed upwards into the air, carrying Cyclops and Wolverine with me.

We sailed over the ground below rapidly, arching away from the descending portion of the bridge as it creaked to a stop. Several figures briskly walked off of it, even as sirens began to chirp loudly across the length of the island. I released a hiss of a curse as I lowered us towards the ground, sweeping out an arm and taking the man in the lead by surprise as he sailed backwards slightly.

By the time my feet had hit the ground, a large figure was mere feet away from me, hands bared and sharp teeth gleaming. Cyclops reacting mere milliseconds before me, blasting the beast of a man backwards before his hands could close around my throat. But, before I could heave a sigh of relief, a dark-clad figure, wearing a strange looking helmet, was hovering some twenty feet in front of us, hands uplifted.

"Why am I not surprised that Charles has sent his pets to stop me?" he asked, voice tinged with obvious annoyance. I narrowed my eyes as I sought him out mentally, staggering back against Cyclops as I realized that I could no more read his mind than I could grow claws to match Wolverine's. "It's a shame that we must fight against one another. Nonetheless... Attack!" he bellowed, thrusting his hands forward and sending a large semi truck flying toward us even as several other figures bounded toward us.

A grunt left my lips as I dodged a blue-skinned woman's flying kick and used my TK to thrust a green-skinned man with an elongated tongue into her. Their presence was quickly forgotten as the large semi-truck grew closer, causing me to hiss out a breath of air as I turned my back and threw myself over Cyclops and Wolverine.

With my face smashed against the back of their heads, I focused on creating a small but powerful telekinetic shield over us. And yet, I hadn't been quite prepared for the impact that the semi caused as it crashed against us, smashing against my shield with an audible thud before bouncing off and crashing against the ground. I felt the heat as the fuel tanks caught fire and exploded, sending bits and pieces of debris in every which direction.

Vertigo caused my vision to spin wildly as I was pulled to my feet unceremoniously by my two companions, their hands steadying me the only thing keeping me on my feet. My stomach twisted uncomfortably as nausea crept over me, my resolve the only thing that kept me from spitting up.

"Fuck," Wolverine hissed as he let go of me, twisting around so quickly that his movements were a blur. The sound of metal scraping against metal met my ears as he unsheathed his claws and released a feral growl before leaping towards the same man that Cyclops had blasted what seemed like mere seconds before.

Cyclops was already leading me toward the remains of the semi truck, one hand firmly on his visor, when the sound of female laughter met my ears. Surprise was evident on my features as I realized that the blue-skinned woman and her green-skinned companion had somehow survived the attack. **Mystique and Toad**, Cyclops grunted through our rapport as he released his hold on me, positioning himself between me and them. **Wolverine's working on Sabretooth. Magneto wouldn't charge into this with just them at his side.**

I nodded in agreement as the smaller one, Toad, hopped forward on all fours, his head tilted to the side slightly in what appeared to be interest. I recognized their names and was only mildly surprised when Mystique's scaly appearance shifted and I found myself looking at a replica of myself. Balling my gloved fists at my sides, I ignored the urge to assist Wolverine's loud fight and instead focused on them. Or, at least, I tried.

The shadow in front of me seemed to come to life as a violet-haired woman appeared out of nowhere, a striking marking over her eye causing Cyclops to hesitate. In the blink of an eye, a glowing object appeared in her hand before she leapt into the air, performing a breathtaking aerial flip before coming down towards me. A gasp left my lips as I thrust up at her with my TK, but she continued to slice downwards with her glowing object.

Pain like I've never known erupted inside of me as I quickly severed my connection with Cyclops and Wolverine, barely remembering to warn Emma as I erected my shields and slid into unconsciousness. _The telepath_, I warned her as my eyes fluttered shut. _Psi-weapon._

And then, it all went dark.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

* * *

><p>"<em>The battlefield is a scene of constant chaos. The winner will be the one who controls that chaos, both his own and his enemies."—<em> Napoleon Bonaparte

_**-Chapter Seventeen-**_

My mind was my sanctum, and had served as much for the majority of my life. Even as a child, I had often spent more time daydreaming and talking to myself than I had spent conversing with people. Before my mutation had manifested, I'd already acquired the unique ability to file everything in my mind with the precision of a surgeon. Once my telepathy had blossomed, I'd learned how to control my shielding, how to create multiple sub-compartments in my mind that would keep my secrets safe from the rest of the world.

And yet, even in my mind I couldn't avoid the blistering pain that seared through me.

It wasn't until I felt a cool touch against my mind, a familiar cool touch that I found myself groaning aloud. I slid into consciousness quickly, eyes fluttering open as I became aware of my settings. Mildly surprised, I sat up and ignored Gambit's hand and staggered to my feet jerkily, tilting to and fro momentarily before exhaling.

"Toad's down," Storm murmured as she lifted her hands to the skies. I was suddenly aware of the cool rain that fell in thick, fat drops. It fell in thick curtains, surrounding us in a veil of sorts that left me unable to see more than twenty feet in front of me in any direction. "Three other women that I don't recognize."

I felt myself being pulled into the telepathic network that Emma had constructed quickly, wincing slightly at the familiar voices that flitted in and out of my head. I offered her a curt nod as she turned, her ash blonde hair spilling over her shoulder in wet clumps. Despite the fact that she was in her diamond form, she was clearly still capable of maintaining the network, though I quickly offered her my aid; lessening the burden for her slightly.

_What did I miss?_ I demanded, wincing at the onslaught of images and thoughts that trickled through the network. I was relieved to learn that Cyclops hadn't fallen victim to the purple-haired woman's assault, and had even managed to fight off Mystique and Toad while the others made their way to where I'd lain unconscious. It had been Emma's quick thinking and Gambit's ingenuity that had brought me out of what I'd considered to be at least a significantly long term self-induced telepathic coma. Shadowcat and Voltic had apparently located a child inside of the facility and were still trying to escape the hordes of armed men and women in their path; Voltic using brute force to stop anyone in their path even while Shadowcat remained latched to the young boy's hand. She was taking a risk because he negated any mutation, making her extremely susceptible. But, with Voltic running along ahead - apparently out of the boy's range- they were fine. For now.

**Bucket Head's coming down. Lookin' pissed.** Logan sounded about as pleased as I was by the news, but I forced myself to gather my strength as I turned to face the man in question.

The rain stopped unceremoniously, flickering off so quickly that if it wasn't for our drenched appearance and the damp ground, one might not have known that it had rained at all. A quietness settled in that was broken only by the shouts of the armed guards that were trickling out of the outbuildings that surrounded the revamped prison. A string of curses echoed through the network; I was surprised to realize that it was Storm doing the cursing.

"You refuse to acknowledge that we are the superior race!" a voice bellowed, turning our attention to the approaching figure of Magneto. Two unfamiliar females flanked him, moving quickly across the ground as he sailed through the air. "They wish to _cure_ us. Already they've twisted this so-called research into weapons against us. How long will you remain in the dark before you finally accept that there shall _be no peace_?" he demanded, lifting his hands slightly.

One of the women, who looked a bit like a man with her boy-ish figure and oddly cut short hair, lifted her arms and slapped her palms together with a growl. A gasp escaped Jubilee's lips as the ground beneath us trembled ever so slightly even as a brutal wave of force swept toward us. Emma reacted by lifting an arm, attempting to shield us with her diamond form as she braced herself against the wave. Grimacing, I lifted a hand and focused on a loose boulder of rock and dirt some fifteen feet to the right of the woman.

**The other one's like super freaking fast**, Jubilee warned as the coffee-skinned woman suddenly disappeared from sight, leaving behind only what appeared to be the tail of a comet. I frowned in annoyance as the other woman again slapped her hands together, sending Jubilee careening backwards to slam against Gambit. Thankfully, he managed to use his bo staff to keep them both upright. Dirt and rock and other debris lifted into the air in a cyclone as the woman with apparent superhuman speed raced around us, sucking the oxygen out the area we stood in with apparent ease.

Grunting, I jabbed my hand forward and watched through the haze of debris and dirt as the boulder slammed into the ground directly in front of the boyish woman. Her mouth fell open in apparent shock as she flew backwards several feet, her body bouncing on the hard, unforgiving ground before stilling completely. Magneto called out to the speeding woman, calling her Callisto. Surprisingly, she reacted to his voice and ran back to his side, causing the cyclone of debris to quickly disappear.

_We can't let those men and women get hurt_, I reminded them as the armed guards continued to flood outside, gathering in front of the largest building. Knowing that Voltic and Shadowcat were still inside, I ground my teeth in annoyance. _Magneto wasn't wrong- They're equipped for the situation. Dart guns with that damned cure_.

**Which means that they need to be disarmed or distracted. Come, Jubilee**, Storm glanced over at the startled youth as she struggled out of Gambit's grasp. The two hurried behind us toward the facility, bolts of lightning striking the ground in jagged lines in front of Storm as she walked. **We will do our best to distract them. Remove the threat before this escalates**.

**Easier said then done, darlin'**, Wolverine grunted as he was launched into the air by Sabretooth's backhand. He released a string of curses that caused Jubilee to giggle even as I shook my head. **Take out Mags and ya might just got a chance. **

Which was certainly easier said than done. The man appeared to block every attack that Gambit sent his way, using his damned magnetic shield to block any bit of debris. To make matters worse, he was completely impenetrable to telepathic attack. _You're right. Suggestions?_

**His helmet**, Storm urged us even as she used a gusting wind to send several dozen of the men and women ass over teakettle. **It is his helmet that protects his mind. Remove it and you may be able to stop him, at least temporarily.**

** Lovely**, Emma muttered as the fast-moving woman sliced forward suddenly, sweeping her off her feet. As she grunted and crawled back to her feet, she glanced over her shoulder at me. **Can you stop Callisto?**

I frowned as I considered it, lifting my hand as the woman darted toward us. Since she moved so quickly, it seemed impossible to grab her with my TK and stop her in her tracks. After several moments of no results, I changed my tactics and erected a quick barrier where I predicted she would be. Surprisingly, the tactic worked; she slammed into the shield with an audible _clang_ before staggering backwards, arms and legs flailing.

Unceremoniously, Gambit leaped over Emma's head and landed in a fighting crouch in front of Callisto, his staff swept out and a handful of glowing cards in his left hand. "Au revoir, sotte petite fille*." With one smooth motion he threw the cards at her, causing her to release a series of gasps even as he spun in a quick circle, his silver bo staff glowing a faint magenta before he slammed it into the ground.

Shock waves of dirt and debris slammed outwards in a ripple-effect as she slammed face first into the ground, twitching once before moving no more. A surprised smile curled my lips as I took a step forward, fully intending to cheer at him when I felt a brush of wind at my shoulder.

My jaw fell open in horror as I turned on my heel, a glowing psi knife brushing through my hair as I narrowly avoided being struck in the forehead. There were large bursts of fireworks in the distance, providing more lighting than before and illuminating the figure of the telepath as she flipped gracefully to the side and swung toward me again. A violet glow appeared around her face in the distorted shape of a butterfly as she struck forward again, this time both with the psi knife and an attack against my mind.

I braced myself almost instantaneously and swatted away her attack as if it were nothing, returning it ten-fold with a precisely aimed psi-bolt. Unlike the strange woman, I had clearly spent years practicing with my abilities. Where she used brute force I used precision and technique. As I struck back, I clearly took her by surprise, causing her to stumble backwards; the psi weapon in her hand flickering.

_Emma_, I hissed through the network, frowning as the woman leaped at me as she had the very first time. Jumping to the side, I hit the ground hard and rolled, my hands and knees taking the brunt of the impact as I rolled up and onto my feet. _She won't be expecting it. I'll distract her and you give her all you've got._

**Anything you say, darling**, she laughed as Cyclops ambled toward her and Gambit, one hand on his visor as he focused on Magneto. **Make it quick; Voltic and Katherine are nearly out of the facility.**

I wanted to remind her that I was clearly doing my best, but instead found myself focusing every bit of my attention on the acrobatic woman. Having trained with the X-Men and the Jr. X-Men for some time, I knew that the woman's fighting skills were on par with Gambit's and Voltic's, likely even as instinctual as Wolverine's. Her agility alone reminded me of the red-eyed devil man that could swindle nearly any member of the household in poker, and yet her expressionless face reminded me of the stoic Cyclops. Trying to reach her mentally failed, as I sensed nothing but hatred, disgust, and determination rolling off of her in thick wafts. Clearly, she wouldn't be swayed from her mission.

It was only through sheer will and luck that I was able to avoid the woman's well-aimed attacks. The others offered me only distraction, and so I found myself pulling away from the telepathic network, shutting it off so that I could concentrate on the woman's fierce movements alone. While it was difficult, it seemed to work.

Eyes narrowed, I reached out with my TK and sent a large piece of metal fencing flying at her. She spared the fencing a quick glance before disappearing out of sight; slipping into the shadows and reappearing just to the left of me. A gasp left my lips as I used my TK and sent myself flying backwards in the air, flipping awkwardly and catching myself by executing a sloppy back handspring. She hissed loudly as she charged across the uneven ground, her hands jabbing out in brutal succession as she attempted to lodge her psi weapon inside of my skull.

It wasn't until she caught me in the shoulder with the faintly glowing knife that I realized that it was more than just any sort of psi weapon; somehow she had managed to create a psi weapon that was every bit as solid as a real weapon. Not only was it fused with obvious mental energy, but she'd wrapped it so tightly with what was clearly telekinesis that it could take my head off unless she deemed otherwise.

Stunned, I dodged her next swing, grunting as I swept her legs out from under her and elbowed her in the face. Before I could even shout for Emma to make her move, the woman was twitching and moaning mere moments before the weapon faded from existence and she went still.

After being pulled to my feet unceremoniously by Wolverine, I spared the large clearing a quick glance. Near the facility, I could almost make out three forms that I knew belonged to Voltic, Shadowcat, and the young boy that they had found inside. Rain poured from the heavens not too far from them, bolts of lightning keeping the armed and confused men at bay even as Jubilee's brightly colored pafs blinded any that got too close. And yet, it wasn't over.

"Run," Wolverine grunted as he went stiff, his arms jutting to his sides at an awkward angle. "Run!"

Unceremoniously, he flew through the air to hover in front of the infamous Magneto, who merely laughed. The sound of metal scraping against metal echoed in the loud night air as he unsheathed the man's claws with his powers, eliciting a roar of what sounded like obvious pain from the fearless Wolverine. Gambit immediately dropped his staff, and slipped off his trench coat, slipping to the side as Magneto focused his attention on the man that he tortured slowly. I limped to Emma's side, grimacing when she pulled me back into the network, her eyes flickering over to meet mine briefly.

In her diamond form, she literally sparkled like a priceless gem. She was virtually indestructible, but her telepathy was weakened considerably. In its place she gained increased strength, but brute force wasn't what we needed. Not facing Magneto.

_Keep him distracted, Wolverine_, I urged the man, paling visibly at his roar of pain through the rapport. The physician in me wanted nothing more than to see to his injuries, to ensure that he was okay. I knew of his healing abilities, knew how easily he could heal even the most mortal of wounds. And yet, seeing him in such pain made me ache to do more than simply stare; though I couldn't. _You're doing great. You're so strong. I swear, once he's down you can-_

Gambit appeared behind Magneto out of nowhere, his steps sure and light as he pushed up off of the ground with his legs. He jumped a full eight feet into the air, twisting midway so that he sailed smoothly over Magneto's shoulder. A chuckle left his lips as he landed mere seconds later, dodging a large piece of metal fencing that the white-haired mutant sent sailing at him.

Emma and I struck out together, white energy leaping through the air from her temples even as I focused my mind on the matter at hand. Magneto realized a moment too late that Gambit's nimble fingers had removed his helmet; we struck his mind simultaneously, causing him to groan as he lifted his hands to his head.

Wolverine was completely forgotten as he fell unceremoniously to the ground, curling himself into a ball to save himself from the impact. Less than three seconds later, Magneto joined him. Unconscious, he lay sprawled across the ground, his cape curled around him like a blanket and his eyes unseeing as he stared up at the dark night sky.

Weakly, I limped forward, ignoring Cyclops' offer of assistance as I stared down at the man that had done so much to ensure that Xavier's dream of peace between mutants and non-mutants. He had personally staged terrorist attack after terrorist attack that left the general populace believing that every mutant they came across was nothing more than a monster. Magneto had almost completely ensured that we would never have peace. As I stared down at him, I briefly considered how much easier life would be for every mutant on the planet if I simply smashed his cranium in with my TK, how much simpler it would be to advocate for mutant rights if I were to ensure he spent the rest of his life thinking that he was a six year old boy.

Thankfully, I had shielded my mind from the others, saving them from the mental battle that waged in my head in the space of a minute. For the second time in my entire existence, I considered taking a life and somehow resisted, realizing that it was not my place nor even slightly moral. Hands shaking, I turned my attention to the four people around me, grimacing as Gambit slipped my arm over his shoulder, helping to alleviate some of the weight that I had on my left leg.

"Storm and the others are heading this way," Cyclops announced, as if the shouting in the distance wasn't sign enough. "We need to get out of here."

"Wheels'd be real helpful right 'bout now," Wolverine grunted, cracking his neck as the lacerations upon his face healed in mere seconds. "Gals?"

Sighing, I met Emma's gaze as she slowly shifted out of her diamond form, her skin returning to its normal color as she shook out her hair. Her blue eyes raked over me before she nodded, focusing her attention on the five figures that raced toward us over the uneven ground. By the time the others had reached us, several dozen men and women were right on their heels, weapons raised as they began to fire white objects into the night air.

Head resting on Gambit's shoulder, I lifted my right arm and smacked the darts out of the night sky. I lent my strength to Emma as she gathered her wits and struck out at every oncoming attacker at the same time. A mere breath later, they all laid unconscious, their guns forgotten.

Though we might have been successful, I found myself feeling far less thankful than I likely should have. After all, how would we ever explain the disappearance of the source of the secretive cure?

_Let's go home_, I urged them as Cyclops switched with Gambit, nearly carrying me across the uneven land. Fatigue crashed over me like a warm blanket as I closed my eyes, falling into a deep and fitful sleep that was plagued with the faces of Magneto and his followers.

Except, in my dreams, I didn't hold back. I'd killed every single one of them.

**A/N:** First of all, thank you for all of the kind and thoughtful reviews as of late. I do apologize for the lack of updates - I've been terribly distracted. Second of all, _"Au revoir, sotte petite fille"_ means, if my translation is right, _"Goodbye, silly little girl"_.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

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><p>"<em>The surest way not to fail is to determine to succeed."—<em> Richard Brinsley Sheridan

_**-Chapter Eighteen-**_

"It's been three days already," Scott argued as he paced the worn rug in front of Xavier's neatly organized desk. "If they knew what happened, it wouldn't be such a mystery. Right?"

The room was eerily quiet as I shifted uneasily in my chair, grimacing slightly at the wave of pain that dug into my knee at the mere motion. Hank reached over immediately, his fingers light and gentle upon the swollen appendage as he kneaded the aching injury carefully.

The X-Men and Jr. X-Men had been called into the Professor's private study in order to discuss the fallout, or lack thereof, of our actions several days previous on Alcatraz Island. In the following days, little had been broadcasted on the national and international news station. While Magneto and two of his followers had been apprehended (we assumed both the women named Arclight and Toad), there was no video footage that could really prove what happened.

It hadn't taken long before the CEO of Worthington Industries, Warren the Second, had called a press conference to address the seemingly pointless attack against the facility that had been erected in the recently remodeled home for criminals. He claimed that his company had purchased the rights to the land nearly two years previous, and had started remodeling a year ago. The facility and its many outbuildings had been turned into a research facility, but he stressed that no research had been conducted thus far.

"Worthington's covering his own ass," I found myself muttering as I rubbed at my throbbing temples meekly. "He doesn't want anyone to know what he's been up to. That's not to say," I continued as Xavier opened his mouth to interrupt, "that there aren't others that know. I'm sure that he has the backing of several groups, likely including at least some partition of the federal government."

"Which means that he's covering for all of them," Xavier added, nodding his head quickly. "It's still quite amazing that they've yet to recover any video footage of the incident. My sources indicate that Worthington did have his hands on several images from his two personal satellites but, mysteriously enough, it would seem as though someone changed the route history of the satellites in question to make it seem as though they had been somewhere over the Middle East at the time period in question. Again, I sense that we all are in Miss Howell's debt for her, dare I say, less than legitimate actions."

"Hear Hear," Ororo nodded her head in agreement. Before joining the Institute, Ororo had spent the better part of her youth as a pickpocket in small villages, and I knew for a fact that when push came to shove, she was willing to turn a cheek when it came to acts of a darker nature as long as they were seemingly for the better good. "Your quick thinking may have spared the Institute some unneeded attention."

"That is not to say, however," Hank murmured as his nimble fingers continued to knead my sore knee gently, "that we are not under suspicion. Since your visit with the President just over half a year ago, he has continued to attempt to keep tabs on you. I met with the Joint Chiefs of Staff yesterday, and they've assured me that they have continued to watch over the Institute in every regard."

There was a moment of silence before Logan muttered a few choice phrases under his breath, none of which were appropriate for a lady or a child. "No fuckin' shit, furball. Gotta hand it to McKenna though, lesser man might've just backed off, made sure he couldn't get caught with his hand in the cookie jar."

"They're smart about their watching though," Aubrey added as she balanced precariously on the arm of the couch. Remy, who had taken to being at her side more and more often over the last several days, sat dangerously close to her, his arm wrapped around her waist and his hand splayed intimately on her thigh. "I've double-checked everything over the last few days to make sure, but I've only found a few traces of them. They're watching the School's official banking accounts, as well as a few of Xavier's personal ones. There are a few satellites that have our location programmed into their routes, but all video surveillance is sent to an offline computer that appears to be at Camp David."

I nodded slowly in agreement, having seen the data myself. While I had never personally met the President of the United States, I had no doubt that he wasn't planning on betraying Xavier anytime soon. The Professor had shared the memory with me mentally, and I had no doubt in my mind that he continued to check up on the man from time to time simply to ensure that his children would remain safe.

"So, they have no evidence and they're attempting to cover it up. None of it explains the facility we found Remy and Aubrey in." Scott stopped pacing, his face a mask of defeat and worry as he folded his arms over his chest yet again. "Does that mean that it wasn't a branch of Worthington? There's someone else out there that we have to worry about?"

The thought made my head spin, and I found myself grimacing internally as I shifted in my seat and my right shoulder began to throb. The mere flesh wound left behind by the strange telepath's psi weapon was already nearly healed, yet it still burned from time to time. Hank seemed to sense my distress as he stopped kneading my knee and clasped my hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I- I am not sure," the Professor admitted, voice filled with what seemed to be a mixture of confusion and fear. "The lone telepath that was guarding the facility offered no information when I probed his mind with Cerebro while you were infiltrating the facility. Against my better judgment, I erased the memory of the facility altogether and I imagine he woke up rather disoriented." He didn't bother to remind us all that we'd left the so-called facility behind in fire, its survivors dragged out onto the front lawn as the sounds of an oncoming fire truck had roared up the dark roadway. "Since, I have found no links to any other facilities."

"Then it's possible that it was Worthington, though I would prefer to think it might have been one of his lesser known researchers. But suspecting and proving are two entirely different things," I began, brows furrowed.

"It wasn't Worthington's lackeys that formed the facility in New Jersey," Emma Frost piped up icily, her voice laced with disdain. "After hearing about it, I began going through some old paperwork." Warily, she shifted in her chair beside me, flicking a wrist in the direction of the lone manilla folder that sat atop Xavier's exquisite desk. "Frost Industries bought the property out in the early 70s."

Scott rounded on her immediately, a scowl upon his lips as he pointed a finger a her in accusation. "You? You were behind that gruesome facility?" he demanded.

"Of course not, darling," she sighed dramatically, crossing her long white-clad legs lazily. Even under fire, the woman had an icy exterior to match that frosty heart in her chest. "We leased the property nearly fifteen years ago to a man by the name of Robert Windsor and he has continued to renew his lease yearly. As I'm sure you're all aware, I've never dabbled in _every_ aspect of my company, and I can assure you that this has gone on for some time without my knowledge."

I pursed my lips in frustration as I shifted slightly in my chair, angling my body toward her so that I could glare at her all the better. "And you're only _now_ telling us this? If we had this information earlier, we might have been able to-"

"Oh hush, Mackenzie," she waved a perfectly manicured hand in the air dismissively. "I haven't acted as an actual CEO for Frost Industries in nearly two years. I've _hired_ people to supervise the daily goings on, and I simply check to make sure that my ample salary is deposited in my accounts monthly. I've barely spared a glance at the reports that I get every quarter, and I can assure you that one of our many leased properties never once drew my attention." Nodding her head toward Scott, who slowly backed off, she flicked a few fingers as if brushing something out of her grasp. "It was actually Miss Howell that found the connection and urged me to do my own digging before she infiltrated Frost Industries and did it for me."

The woman in question laughed, drawing my gaze to her smirking face. "I believe I said that I'd zap in there and do whatever the hell I wanted with your records, Frosty. Imagine what the IRS would do if they saw your real records. I know how you big companies work-"

"Yes, well thank you yet again, Aubrey, for your efforts," the Professor interrupted, a twinkle in his eyes. Miraculously, Aubrey shrugged a shoulder and leaned against Remy as Xavier steepled his hands together on the desk in front of him. "With Worthington continuing to claim that the research facility was not entirely up and running, we have to assume that it means that the so-called mutant cure that was used in those darts will not be used in the immediate future. That is not to say, however, that they will not be used at all. I am rather convinced that several private parties would pay excessive amounts of money for such a contraption."

"Nonetheless," he continued, shaking his head slightly. "I think that it is imperative that we do our best to remain under the radar in the coming days. Leech as he calls himself, will remain in our care until he is of age. While his education is rather behind, he shows promise in the preliminary testing, and he's already gained excellent control over his powers of negation. But, I digress," he cleared his throat gently. "The Fantastic Four have denied having any connection to the incident on Alcatraz Island, and the media already speculates that it was the quote 'infamous group of leather-clad mutants' that stopped Magneto. As such, we must remain vigilant in our continued secrecy."

"What about the facility?" Jubilee piped up, snapping her gum loudly. "What if there are like, y' know, more like it?"

Everyone was quiet for a long moment before the founder of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters finally released a drawn-out sigh.

"I will continue to scour the world for such atrocities, Jubilation," he assured her quietly. His gaze met mine suddenly and I felt his presence in my mind as he reminded me that someday, it might be up to Emma or even _me_ to continue to watch over in his stead. "That much I can promise you."


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

* * *

><p>"<em>Security represents your sense of worth, your identity, your emotional anchorage, your self-esteem, your basic strength or lack of it."—<em> Stephen R. Covey

_**-Chapter Nineteen-**_

"Excellent job, Julian."

A smile fit for a young boy on Christmas morning curled his lips as he released a sigh. At his feet laid several bouquets of flowers that had been tampered with by his TK alone. Over the course of several weeks, the young man had progressed from brute and unfocused force to a delicate touch that impressed even the likes of the Professor.

"I can't believe I really did it," he admitted, lifting his arms over his head and stretching. "A few weeks ago, the same exercise made me feel like I'd been run over with a freaking semi truck."

"And now?" I prompted, a knowing smile upon my lips.

"And now," he shook his head, as if in disbelief. "Now it's like I've just finished a grueling workout. One that left me feeling exhausted but somehow good at the same time. If that makes any sense."

_It does_ I assured him mentally as he leaned down quickly and recovered the flowers, sniffing them loudly. "Now it's just a matter of continuing to strengthen your skills, Julian. Spend a little bit of every day practicing. Push yourself, be creative. I know right now it may seem like a stretch, but I really think that you have the potential to do nearly anything you put your mind to."

His gaze met mine briefly before he shook his head, his sweat-drenched hair sticking to his forehead in the process. "Nah, Dr. Benton. I get the feeling that I'm never gonna be as good as you. But, that's okay," he hurried to explain when I opened my mouth to interrupt. "Don't get me wrong. I respect the fact that you want me to get better. To be perfectly honest, before Miss Frost brought us all here, I thought I was the best in the business. I stopped a bus moving at full speed and I had it in my head that I was unstoppable."

"Someday you might be," I murmured, worrying at my lower lip. It worried me somewhat that his rage, his unrefined ability, that it had reminded me so much of a woman I had known so long ago. "With practice and with age, you're bound to only improve."

"But, there's only so much room for improvement; you and I both know that. When I see you use your powers..." he trailed off, dark brows furrowed as he shoved the bouquets of flowers under his left arm roughly. "It's like an extension of yourself. You do things so easily, so thoughtlessly. I mean, look at you."

Curious, I glanced down at myself and took in my casual appearance, dark blond brows knitted in confusion as I met his gaze yet again. "I don't see anything special."

"No," he shook his head, stepping forward and tipping my chin upwards with his callused fingers. "It's your eyes, I think. They're so intelligent, so deep, so blue. You're able to do stuff, to multi-task, like it's the easiest thing in the world. Last night at dinner you had four different knives going, chopping up vegetables. And I'll be damned if I didn't turn the corner and see laundry folding itself."

He stepped back as I folded my arms over my chest yet again, my thoughts whirling as I considered his words. "I've had a lot more time to practice than you," I reminded him.

A sigh, one tinged with disgust, left his lips as he hurriedly shook his head. "It's not even that though, _Mackenzie_," he said my name as though he were trying it out, seeing how it felt rolling off of his tongue. He paused for a moment, clearly waiting to see if I would reprimand him for his informality, but I merely waited for him to continue. After all, Julian Keller was legally an adult and would graduate with the rest of the senior class. "It comes so natural to you. You seem to bend the law of physics, to make the impossible possible. I've seen you in the Danger Room and I've watched reels from back when you first started. You were-"

"Let's not talk about how I used to be," I interrupted, shaking my head quickly. The warm afternoon air suddenly felt cool as it prickled my skin, nearly making me shiver. Even remembering the past left me feeling a bit off balance, as if remembering something from the past was like remembering being dipped in a vat of acid. "I had a lot of confidence when I was younger, something that certainly helped me with my control. I had someone to practice with."

"Jean Grey."

"Yes," I replied, voice slightly meek. Her snarling face, her fierce green eyes and her absolutely loathing for me seemed so strong in my mind that I could almost feel the sting of her hand across my face. "Jean and I- We were able to practice with one another, much like you and I practice together."

"But she wasn't nearly as good as you were, as good as you are now."

Grimacing, I shifted my weight from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. Being compared to anyone, especially her, had lost its appeal long ago. "Jean- Well, Jean may not have had the skill level that I've had since my powers manifested, but she had a lot more going for her. She always had a way with people, a natural goodness to her and an absolute drive to make the world a better place. She never really got the chance to get better, Julian."

"What do you mean?" he asked, confusion written across his face.

"Most mutants manifest their mutations during times of great stress, most often during puberty. The body is changing; hormone productions are increasing and the body itself is going through a complete overhaul. More often than not, that's when you _get your powers_. For Jean, it was different." I clearly remembered the mental image that she had shared with me not long after we had started training together. "She manifested her powers when she was eight. She _felt_ her best friend die. It sent her telepathy and telekinesis haywire and it took the Professor a long time to help her."

"I didn't know that," he admitted, regret evident in his voice. "I mean, you know I never meant anything rude by-"

"I know," I lifted a hand to stop him. "It's just important to me that nobody ever compares me to her. I understand why it's so easy for one to make the comparison; we have the same abilities. When the Professor first found Jean, he put a mental block on her powers, Julian. You've heard of those?" He nodded his head slowly, clearly surprised by the direction the conversation was taking. "The mental blocks allowed Jean to have a somewhat normal childhood, but once he removed them it was all or nothing. When you first manifested your abilities, what do you remember?"

He lifted his free hand and ran it through his hair thoughtfully, lips pursed. "I remember feeling so overwhelmed in the beginning. I had to concentrate to get my bed to stay on the floor, I had to focus on not sending every loose object flying."

"How long did that last?"

"I don't know really. The first few weeks were the worst. My TK was completely unpredictable." He paused and we shared a knowing look with one another; we understood the other perfectly. "When I wanted to, I could barely lift a sheet of paper. And yet, other times I was throwing my bed across the room, sending the couch toppling sideways. Oh. I-I think I get what you were trying to say."

Gently, I touched against his mind, thankful when I realized that his surface thoughts indicated that he finally understood exactly what had set Jean apart from most other mutants. "Jean had promise, Julian. She had the capability of being the most powerful mutant in the world. If she'd had another five, maybe ten years to practice she would have been unstoppable. Hell," one corner of his lips lifted slightly at the curse word as it rolled off of my tongue. "If she'd dedicated all of her time to practicing, she could have done it in a year or two."

"Like you did."

Tilting my head to the side slightly, I found myself nodding just once. "I've gone through what you're experiencing. Sometimes, I still wake up in the middle of the night, hovering several feet off of my bed with every loose item in the room spinning around in a cyclone of telekinetic energy. I _know_ what it's like." I paused for a moment, eyes thoughtful. "Everyday is a struggle, Julian. I have to practice daily, to stretch the laws of imagination to ensure that I don't get rusty. And then," I frowned, shaking my head slightly, "I have to make up for it by spending hours in the gym to ensure that my body is as in shape as my mind."

"I get what you're saying," he assured me, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. With a gentle touch, I realized that he was ashamed at the fact that he had clearly upset me. "I never really thought about it like that. It's kind of overwhelming finally realizing just how hard I'm going to have to work to ensure that I don't get all fat and lazy."

"I'm sure that you'll be perfectly fine," I laughed, shaking my head slowly. He appeared in rather good physical shape, and if his performance in the Danger Room was any indication- my observation was dead on. "You have Defense Training and Strategy with Logan in a few minutes. You better get going."

As he nodded in agreement and hurried back to the Mansion, I couldn't help but think back over his words. Only twice had I ever admitted aloud that I thought I was better than Jean Grey.

Both times had ended rather poorly.

_You're not like her_, I reminded myself as I hurried toward the greenhouse, hoping to catch Ororo before her afternoon classes. _You're not_.


	21. Chapter Twenty

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

* * *

><p>"<em>Old friends are best."—<em> John Selden

_**-Chapter Twenty-**_

"Got another date tonight?"

Slightly startled, I glanced over my shoulder at the figure standing in the open doorway of my private room before nodding meekly. "Yes, actually. Is there something you wanted, Scott?" I asked, turning my attention back to the full-length mirror as I continued to delicately put on make-up.

He hesitated for a moment before he stepped inside, closing the door partially behind him. "Just- Well, I sort've realized we haven't really talked since you came back." He stood with his hands tucked awkwardly into the front pockets of his dark wash jeans, his eyes hidden behind his ever-present darkened shades. "I finally started cleaning out the room a bit. I thought that it would be good for me if I got rid of a few of Jean's things, maybe switched rooms."

I met his gaze in the mirror's reflection, mascara wand poised in my hand as I considered his words briefly. "Are you sure that it's time?" I inquired softly.

Nodding his head jerkily, he lifted a hand and scratched at the side of his neck nervously. "I think so. I mean, it's been almost a year. To be honest, I never thought I would make it through the week after she- after she died. And now, it's been nearly a year."

"It's hard," I murmured, applying a bit more mascara before sliding the wand into the cylinder and twisting the top quickly, ensuring that it was closed before placing it on the bureau along with my other make-up. "Jean wouldn't have wanted you to hurt everyday, Scott. She would have wanted you to live your life to the fullest. I'm sure that's what she wanted for everyone."

Silence reigned over the room for a few short moments as I sat down in the comfortable office chair at my personal desk, leaning over so that I could adjust the straps of my shoes.

"She was always so selfless, so humble." His voice was laced with what sounded like fatigue. _He probably hasn't been sleeping well_, I told myself as I turned my gaze toward him, my fingers still working at the straps on my shoes. "I think her obvious sacrifice for the greater good is what kept me going for so long. What she did at Alkali Lake? She would have done it for anyone, for any single person. Jean was just so innately good, so kind and generous."

"She truly was," I admitted, sighing gently. "There will never be anyone quite like her."

"You're right," he added, nodding his head slightly. "It took me a long time to finally admit that everyone's been right. I never, ever meant to make it seem as though I took her death in vain. Yes, to this very day, I would trade anything in the world for her life, for her safety. It's selfish, Mackenzie, you and I both know that." I shifted uneasily, sitting up straight and resting my hands in my lap as I stared at his unmoving form. "If it had taken the lives of every single person aboard that jet, plus a million more, to trade for her? I'd do it in a heartbeat."

Stunned, I touched against his mind gently, surprised at the lack of animosity and regret that I found there. What I found was a longing, an acceptance, a realization. Scott knew, deep down, that what Jean had done was right, was what was required, and yet he'd finally accepted that her death had been unavoidable. Of course, I didn't completely agree with him.

Still, hearing that he would have willingly sacrificed the lives of the Professor, of Ororo and Logan and the other Jr. X-Men- It left me extremely unsettled. Even picturing my life without them, without the Professor's offer seemed out of the question. If it weren't for the Professor, I wouldn't have found my way back to the Institute.

_Which means you wouldn't have found Hank_, I reminded myself, grimacing slightly as I stood, straightening the front of my dress slightly.

"I'm not sure what you want me to say," I struggled to find the words to convey my confusion, lifting a hand slightly in the air. "Scott, I -"

"There's not really anything to say," he interrupted, shaking his head quickly. "I've given a lot of thought to leaving the Institute. With the Professor's influence and my own background, I thought about going back to Alaska, back to where the accident that destroyed my family and made me what I am today. I told you about that once, didn't I?" He paused, lips pursed. After a moment, he continued. "There were engine troubles, and there was only one parachute. My parents made me jump with my little brother. I ended up hitting my head pretty good. I was actually in a coma for a few months."

"By the time I woke up, my little brother was gone; he had been placed in the foster care system. There had been no sign of my parents, and I was dumped into the system, too." Briefly, I went over what I remembered of his records mentally, recalling the rather thick file that had outlined the primary cause behind Cyclops' inability to fully control his optic blasts. "When my mutation manifested, it was completely uncontrollable. They ended up locking me up, taping my eyes shut until the Professor showed up."

Slowly, I rose from my chair and motioned for him to join me on the small love seat that occupied the corner in front of the large bay windows. He hesitated for a moment, his body rigid with tension. Then, with a brief nod, he crossed the room and dropped onto the white couch, his elbows braced on his knees and his gaze on the floor as I sank down onto the couch next to him.

Seeking to comfort him, I rested a hand on his shoulder. Of course, he attempted to shrug it off, but I remained firm and merely gripped his shoulder in a comforting manner. "Go on," I urged him.

"It took them two weeks to find a way for me to actually open my eyes. The Professor- Well, this colleague of his was determined that there was some way to allow me to see again. I don't know how he found it or even how much the Professor spent on the project in the beginning, but he crafted me my first pair of ruby quartz glasses." A small smile, one reminiscent of the boy I'd once known, curled his lips. "He ended up helping me find my brother a few years after I joined the Institute; Alex is in the Air Force now, as you know."

"But Alaska, that's sort of where it all began, isn't it?" he asked, tilting his head to the side slightly in order to meet my gaze. "I lost my parents that day, Mackenzie. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if there hadn't been complications that day, or even if there had been more parachutes. Oh, I know my powers probably would have _still_ manifested regardless, but I would have still had them. It's hard sometimes to remember them, to even see their faces."

"I'm so sorry, Scott," I managed, trying to understand exactly how he felt. I'd grown up as a single child, and my parents had doted on me when it fit their needs. I had been raised by nannies and tutors; I didn't know the loss that he spoke of so intimately. "Life doesn't seem very fair sometimes, I know."

He hesitated for a moment, his jaw clenching tightly as he shook his head a single time. "You know how the Professor had been tracking Wolverine? How he had directed me, Jean, and Ororo to get to him before Magneto?" Slowly, I nodded my head, stomach clenching uncomfortably. "For the longest time now, I've been wondering exactly what would have happened if we hadn't stepped in. Or if we'd known that Rogue was Magneto's intended target."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean Wolverine was one of that– that sick bastard's play things. Wolverine was a product of _William Stryker_, Mackenzie. He raided this School, my home." He paused again, his adam's apple bobbing slightly as he swallowed thickly. "I didn't realize until after the fact, long after the fact, that he hadn't even known Logan was here to begin with. It was a chance encounter. Dammit." He gritted his teeth, the sound of his jaw clenching literally causing me to grimace.

"Don't forget to blame Rogue while you're at it," I quipped, barely managing to remove my hand and dodge out of the way as he reared back, face flushed as he glared at me. "Oh, don't give me that look, Scott Summers. You and I both know that if Rogue didn't exist, that if Magneto hadn't _used_ her to power his blasted machine that Stryker wouldn't have had a feeble old man to interrogate." His face fell slightly, and something in my gut twisted tightly, promptly knocking me off of my high horse. "I'm sorry, that was harsh."

"No," he cleared his throat gruffly. "You're right. Of course you're right." A laugh shook through his body, one that left him sounding as though he was fighting off the urge to sob. "It's not fair either. It's not fair knowing that and wishing, if only for a split second, that the girl didn't exist. Does that make me a monster?" he asked, reeling around on the couch so that his left knee brushed against mine. "Am I like Stryker?"

"Of course not," I admonished, shaking my head as I cupped his hand between both of mine. He flinched visibly, clearly taken aback by the sudden show of comfort, but made no move to retract his hand. "I'm only trying to point out that pointing a finger at anyone isn't going to solve anything. So many things happened that day, Scott. A single decision caused a domino effect. Maybe things would have worked out okay if Jean had been aboard the jet." He grimaced visibly, his body huddling inward as though he were trying to fight off cold air. "Hell, maybe if the jet hadn't been disabled, if Rogue hadn't been proactive and attempted to save all of you, all of those students, Jean would be here today."

"And maybe," I continued, throat aching as I struggled to find the right words. "Maybe things would have turned out differently had Jean not taken the entire weight of the world onto her shoulders. Don't interrupt me," I warned him as he glared at me, his face scrunched up in obvious animosity. "The fact of the matter is that there are two types of people in this world: people that take the initiative and people that wait for others to lead the way."

"Oh really?" he grunted, jerking his hand out of my grasp as he stood, his posture rim-rod straight. "What exactly are you trying to say?"

Slowly, I rose from the couch, brushing the front of my dress to ensure that it remained wrinkle-free as I stood just behind him. "I'm saying that Jean took the initiative, Scott. While others were worried about the jet, about how to get it operational again, she thought only of the lives aboard the jet. She knew, deep down, that she had the power to save you all. Even as she was exiting that jet, I have no doubt in my mind that she fully understood the risks."

The room was completely silent save for the faint sound of people passing to and fro out in the hall. But, after a long moment he finally met my gaze, straightening his shoulders and unfisting his hands at his sides.

"What would you have done?" he asked suddenly, surprising me.

Stunned, I blinked a few times as I worked through his question. "What do you mean?" I inquired, knowing _full well_ exactly what he referred to.

Stiffening slightly, he glanced toward the window near the couch before looking back at me yet again. "If you had been there, if you had been with us, what would you have done? Jean's there and she's injured, can barely walk. What does Mackenzie Benton do?"

Eyes narrowed in thought, I licked my lips and folded my arms over my chest quickly. "If she was really struggling, I would have told her to worry about the jet and I would focus on keeping the water at bay. To be honest, instead of standing outside, I would have at least stood on top of the jet. Oh, don't look at me like that, Scott. Jean acted on her instincts and did what she thought was necessary. You and I both know that her telekinesis had been a bit out of control; it always was."

"If I had been there, I would have remained in the jet and simply lifted it out of the way of the oncoming water. Is that what you wanted to hear? Hmm?" I prompted, eyes narrowed. "If she had the power to hold off that torrent of water, even if only for a few seconds, surely she would have been able to lift a few tons of Blackbird? At least, one would think so. I'm not selfless, Scott. I _can_ be when the situation calls for it. I _know_ how to put others before myself. But in that situation?" I paused, swallowing thickly. "In that situation it wasn't necessary."

He seemed to churn through my words slowly, his jaw clenched tightly. Finally, he shook his head a single time and released a short laugh. "You know, for a long time, I thought of you and Jean as the same person with different personalities, different appearances. During school, you two worked together, almost moved together as one. She lifted a book, you'd lift a chair. She whispered sweet nothings in my mind and you'd eavesdrop and laugh at me mentally." He tilted his head to the side slightly, as if taking in my appearance for the first time in a very long time. "You have some of the same qualities, mostly good ones - but, you're..." he trailed off, shaking his head slightly.

"I'm what?" I prompted, resisting the urge to brush against his mind to find out what I wanted to know.

"You're a lot different than her, that's all. A lot different," he reiterated, lips thinned.

_Is that a good thing?_ I asked mentally as he swept out of the room calmly.

He never responded.


	22. Chapter Twenty One

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

"_Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, 'I will try again tomorrow.'"—_ Mary Anne Radmacher

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><p><em><strong>-Chapter Twenty-One-<strong>_

"Ladies and gentlemen of Congress, if you'll please take your seats."

Nervously, I shifted awkwardly in my seat and ignored Hank's warm hand upon my thigh under the table as some Congressman or other caused the House to go quiet. I spared the man next to me a quick smile as he rose from his seat and walked calmly toward the podium between the two long tables where the Professor, Moira MacTaggert, several media heads, and the Secretary of Domestic Affairs were seated.

Hands folded neatly in my lap, I focused my attention on the blue-furred man standing behind the podium, preparing myself for the speech before my own. While it had been Charles Xavier and then Moira MacTaggert that had spoken first, each explaining things that people already _knew_ about mutants, it was up to Hank and myself to sway the public opinion.

"Good afternoon," Hank began, a smile upon his face. The Professor touched against my mind briefly, urging me to turn my attention to the sea of faces and cameras in front of me rather than the speaker; slowly, I obliged. "Since Doctors Xavier and MacTaggert have explained the, dare I say, technicalities, I would like to address the lesser known affinities that encompass mutant kind. Like you, I was brought into this world thanks to the love, or even brief encounter, of two people. My mother and father were both working class citizens, and wanted nothing more than to expand their family and live that fairy tale happily ever after. I grew up on a farm, enjoying spending time outdoors just as much, if not more, than I enjoyed the books that I devoured at increasingly excessive speeds."

"As the research that Moira was so kind to provide points out- several mutants undergo what is called a secondary mutation. That being said, I would like to stress that when my mutation first manifested, it did not come as much of a surprise. I had always been a bit larger and more gangly than the other boys in my class. My affinity for sports allowed me to gain a scholarship, allowing me to go to a prestigious college that would have otherwise been out of the realm of fiscal possibility for my parents."

"I did not realize my love for science until well into my junior year. I thought at first that a degree in classical literature was my heart's desire. But, it was during yet another science elective that I realized how utterly fascinated I was by the subject. Of course, by that point I had already taken several _extra_ science electives, simply because the subject interested me so. That summer, I extended my break by an entire year, choosing instead to focus my attentions in a private lab, giving up my sports scholarship in order to accept a grant from a private party. That year, I learned more about myself than I would have ever thought possible. I discovered my love for science, my often obstinate need to simply _know_ how things work, and why."

It shocked me slightly to realize that it was that year between his junior and senior year of college that I had first met Hank. Of course, he _had_ spent the majority of his time in the lab, but I'd never really given much thought to the fact that he was slightly older than me. More than five years, in fact.

"I graduated the following spring, with exceptional grades. I considered teaching, considered settling down into a career as a lab technician. But, I wanted more. With no apparent destination in mind, I went onto graduate school, buckling down and obtaining my doctorate in a mere two years. By then, I had already published several papers, all of which were on the ever-rising number of mutant births in the world. As I stand before you, I can honestly say that until the great leader of our country, the President himself, approached me and offered me a position as Secretary of Mutant Affairs not so long ago, I never once gave politics a thought."

"I would hazard to say that there are certainly far more qualified individuals that should have been approached before me. But, after careful consideration, I accepted the President's offer. Not long into my career, I'm sure you'll all recall the sudden oncoming of what I like to refer to as my Cookie Monster appearance," he spoke clearly, concisely. In return, the cavernous room fell silent.

Ignoring Xavier's advice to remain staring at the sea of faces, I shifted in my seat slightly and let my gaze rake over Hank's appearance. The man was a natural born speaker; he didn't appear at all phased by the fact that his speech, his very face, was being broadcast across the entire world. In fact, he seemed almost pleased; something that I hadn't anticipated, though likely should have.

"I am an average American man. I was born and raised on a farm. I attended college and then went on to get my masters and my doctorate. I have a total of three serious relationships under my belt; the third being the most recent and most likely to prevail. I enjoy Twinkies and coffee. There is nothing better than spending a Saturday afternoon playing a pick-up game of baseball with a group of friends, unless it's a pick-up game of football on Sunday morning. While I know the inner workings of an automobile, I would be hesitant to ever do more than change a flat. I pay my taxes, I go to church on the Holidays and often several times a month, and I want nothing more than to live my life in peace. And maybe..." his eyes met mine suddenly as a smile curled his lips.

"And someday I would like to get married and have children." I smiled warmly, brushing against his mind gently in a casual reminder that sooner or later, we _would_ discuss our relationship. "While I have seen firsthand exactly what some mutants are capable of, I would like to stress that non-mutants have a record for being just as dangerous. Throughout the history of man, there is a long list of mass murderers, assassins, and all-around terrible malevolent men. Mutants as a whole should not be regarded as a threat. Do not ask me for guarantees, but instead think about the men and women that fought and died for the freedoms that today you wish to revoke from me, from others like me, simply because I was born different."

Stepping away from the podium, Hank lifted his blue hands, palm up, and motioned to the large room as a whole. "If you pass the Mutant Registration Act, or other laws like it, I fear nothing but devastation will greet us as Americans. There is no reason to hold the crimes of the mutant terrorist, Magneto, against the rest of us. Prejudice on the part of Adolf Hitler and his Nazis led to the deaths of approximately six million Jews. I am not a man for begging or pleading, but for the sake of the world that I do so cherish, I am willing to acquiesce. Ladies and Gentlemen, please weigh all of the evidence heavily before condemning my kind to eternal persecution. I assure you..." he trailed off, sighing deeply.

"I assure you that it will only lead to indefinite turmoil that will spread its terrible grip outwards from our United States, only to envelop the rest of the world. Please, think not only of our founding fathers, but of our future generations. Let us not be known for our descent into war, but instead for our gathered strength and willingness to work together."

As he nodded his head, signifying that he was finished with his speech, I found myself weakly pushing myself away from the long table in order to stand. My knees knocked together in nervous anticipation as he brushed past me, sparing me a warm and comforting smile, before I moved stiff-legged toward the podium. A sea of blank faces and bright lights filled my vision as I gripped the front of the podium tightly, praying that the height of the object would hide my nervousness from the gathered mass of people and the cameras that were trained on my strained features.

I straightened my shoulders and slipped into a role, a facade, that I had created so long ago that it was like a second personality. Mackenzie Benton, _M.D._ and heir to a sizable fortune, was a woman of the world, one who had dined with the elite and basked in the praise from the most influential men and women in the world. She was a woman that could entice a man with a single smile, could use her wiles delicately and have every male specimen in a ten mile radius simply begging for her attention.

"Ladies and gentlemen," I began, a sultry smile curling my lips. I knew what they saw: a sophisticated, clearly educated woman with enticing looks and a charming smile. "I am Dr. Mackenzie Benton, a colleague of these fine gentlemen that have already spoken to you. As everyone has already been provided my credentials, I choose to leap directly into the topic at hand. Mutants," I paused, letting the word sink in. "The mutant phenomena began decades ago, long before members of the government such as the gathered people here today were in office. Save for a few," I nodded toward several older gentlemen that had been congressmen for as long as I could possibly remember.

"I am not here to add additional proof that mutants are merely the next stage in evolution. That is not my expertise. I am a medical doctor; for the better part of ten plus years I have dedicated my life, my mind, to gaining an education so that I could one day tend to those in need. I was brought up in a wealthy family, and so when I had the opportunity to intern at a facility deemed _below_ average standards, I jumped at it."

"As I'm sure everyone is aware, there are places in this fine country that aren't as beautiful as our very own national capital. One such place is the Bronx in New York City." I paused again, letting my gaze rake over several of the cameras pointed straight at me. "When I first arrived at the borough's facility, I did so with my head held high. One could say that I had a vague expectation, and that my expectations were clearly tossed out the window my first night. My Emergency Medicine rotation, surprisingly, was my first and most challenging. I thought that I had been prepared for it all; that I could handle any obstacle that came at me."

"A group of school children came in, wave after wave. A drunk driver had ran a red light and slammed into their bus, mere blocks away from their school. They had been on a field trip, one that had taken them to the NYC Museum of Natural History, one that was made possible thanks to several private donations to the poverty-ridden school." My gut clenched uncomfortably as I remembered their faces, remembered their pleading shrieks as they cried out for their parents, for answers. It had been the first time my telepathy had been put to a real test. Even in college, during classes and parties - I had been able to keep a lid over my abilities, to contain them even. But, those screaming children, their aching hearts - it had all been far too much for me to handle.

"I ended up staying for nearly five hours past my so-called shift, much to the relief of my supervisors. I tended minor aches and pains, held hands, contacted parents, and comforted mothers as they watched their children pass away. That night, we were able to save only twenty-four of the thirty-six children. Statistically speaking, we did well. We went the extra mile to save innocent children, but it wasn't enough."

My eyes burned with the need to let the tears fall, but I refused to let my emotions get the best of me when so very much was on the line. I took a few deep breaths, steadying my resolve as I braced myself to continue the speech that I had roughly prepared over the last several days.

"Four of the twelve children that passed away did not receive the care that they deserved." A murmur of confusion raced through the cavernous room as I cleared my throat, gathering their attention yet again. "The hospital's board of directors declared that visitors that were visibly different, visibly _mutants_ - that they didn't deserve the same sort of attention. In order to assure that the rules were followed, the other children were tended to first. As you can imagine, I was torn. The majority of doctors will tell you that when they applied to medical school, it was under the belief that they were going to be able to help people."

"When I applied to medical school, I did so knowing that I wanted to spend the rest of my life helping people. I had an affinity for medicine, for science and mathematics and _people_ that made me think that I would be good at it. And yet, I wasn't able to help those four children for fear of causing both the residents on call, as well as the other hospital staff, severe repercussions. Despite my beliefs, I was unable to do more than hold those children's hands as they passed on, their injuries severe enough that without immediate medical help that they were simply DoA."

"I stand before you today because I didn't stand up for them then. My records will indicate that I called a meeting with my superiors and presented my case, explained why I thought it was wrong, why it was medical _negligence_ to deny service to any single person or group of persons. But, my records and files also indicate that my superiors felt I acted rashly, that I didn't understand the bureaucracy behind the world that I had joined. And, maybe, just maybe, they were right."

"I didn't understand the bureaucracy behind it; the rules, the loopholes, the money. What I knew, what I understood was that I had discovered something about myself, something that couldn't exactly be ignored. I had always wanted to help people, and yet I hadn't helped those children in any way, shape, or form. It was then that I dedicated myself more firmly to my studies, to my goals."

"The next several years passed by in relative quiet. You'll notice that my records indicate that I graduated at the very top of my class, that I published half a dozen essays in medical journals, and that I volunteered for endless hours across the world in outreach programs. Having obtained my degree and my required hours, I entered into a private practice with several gentlemen, my father's associates. But, it wasn't exactly what I wanted."

The big finale was coming, I knew, and it was hard thinking about just how my life would change. A smile fixed upon my face, I prepared to deliver the news that would forever change my career.

"Which is why I sought out and found a dozen doctors interested in forming a coalition. Together, we opened a moving clinic, if you will, that visited neighborhoods all across New York City. Our clinic, _Different? Not Always_, or _DNA_ for short," I paused, grinning, "wasn't exactly well received. You see, our clinic sought out mutants in need, offering them medical care. I shall not reveal any names linked to the clinic, as it has since been retired after the MRA was propositioned. But, I have been given permission from my colleagues to go into detail, to seek to explain why we banded together despite what the rest of the country wanted."

"Our goal was to provide medical care to those, namely mutants, that were turned away from other medical care facilities based simply on their appearance. We wanted to _help_ people. And so we did. We helped people, mutants, because we understood them."

"Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to point out that my records do not contain a certain detail that I'm sure the majority of you have figured out by now. Like the men, women, and children that I sought out daily in a too-small recreational vehicle that had been outfitted for our needs, I too am a mutant. I was born different from the rest of you, I was born with a slight difference in my DNA that allowed me unique gifts and abilities that have allowed me to help thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, of people across the world."

"I have spent the better part of my life doing what was expected of me. And yet, I can assure you that if you, my beloved country's government, continue to repress mutant kind that I will not remain dormant. I will continue to do what is right, I will continue to provide care to those in need, whether in person or through other means. I stand before you as a citizen of the United States, as a citizen that has continued to pay her taxes on time, has donated countless hours and hundreds of thousands of dollars to charities. I stand before you as a woman that has taken the Hippocratic Oath seriously, and will continue to take it to heart even if it is ruled that she cannot provide medical care based on the simple fact that she's a mutant. I am not a threat to this country, to any of you. I am a physician, a woman determined to help make the world a better place. Many of our ancestors traveled to this country seeking a new life; a chance for a better tomorrow. I stand before you to consider what our forefathers would do in your place. We have fought and died for freedom; do not let our differences separate us."

I paused, exhaling heavily. "I believe the Civil War was a large enough indication the sort of chaos that can envelope the world in such a situation. Please, let us not repeat our past mistakes. Thank you."

I managed to keep my balance, to look at least somewhat calm and, hopefully, regal as I staggered back to my seat and sat down quickly, eyes focused outward but unseeing. Something tingled in the back of my head, a warning that my defenses were waning under the pressure. Worry rushed through me a mere instant before the Professor touched upon my mind gently, like a shepherd worrying over one of his flock.

**You are certain this is the path you choose to venture down?**

Instead of looking over at him, I reached forward shakily and sipped from the glass of water that sat on the table in front of me. Another speaker was at the podium, but I hadn't a clue who, nor did I particularly care.

_There's no sense in hiding anymore. If giving them something new to bat around delays the MRA... then it's worth it._

As he touched against my mind, briefly, I found myself hoping that I was right.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I do so apologize for the lull in updates. I've been busy, swamped with real life and other tasks. Thank you for reading.


	23. Chapter Twenty Two

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

* * *

><p>"<em>Nearly all the best things that came to me in life have been unexpected, unplanned by me."—<em> Carl Sandburg

_**-Chapter Twenty-Two-**_

It was easier than I expected to ignore the phone calls, the mountain of e-mails. Xavier called in a temp to oversee the secretarial work that was usually handled by one of the instructors a few times a week. The young woman had seemed hesitant, but after a quick meeting with the Professor, her wary smile had shifted into understanding and acceptance. The best part was that she had no problem telling the reporters to go screw themselves.

Glancing down at my watch, I realized that I had less than twenty minutes before the staff meeting upstairs. The computer screen stared back at me mockingly as I sighed, moving the cursor over the inbox button warily. _Only three hundred new e-mails_, I found myself thinking as I began clicking the little check box next to nearly all of them. Since it was a public e-mail, one that was through the Xavier Institute, I couldn't simply delete it all. For the sake of public appearances, it was for the parents of current and prospective students -– or even the concerned public.

As I learned the day after my little speech, it was generally better to delete all but the ones that looked genuine. The first day, the flood of e-mails had left me depressed, resolved to hide down in the Med Lab all day. It had taken Hank a full hour to talk some sense into me, and even then he had done more petting than he had talking. At least that I had noticed.

Out of habit, I scanned the senders' addresses as I scrolled down the page, deleting as I went. The second day, I had started sending back generalized replies, ones that included polite and eloquent words expressing that my DNA had absolutely nothing to do with my skill as a physician. Of course, that had only made things worse. So, instead, I merely deleted any that could be ignored in the hopes that sooner or later, the buzz would die down and I could drive to the city without being hounded by reporters or, worse, activists.

One e-mail caught my eye, and I hesitated, the cursor hovering over it. I clicked the delete buttons to dump the previously checked e-mails into the Trash Bin before taking a quick breath and clicking the e-mail in question. The page took a second to load, and the heading imagery was both pristine and official in every which manner.

_**"Ms. Benton:**_

_** It has come to our attention, through many different channels, that perhaps our eagerness to accept your monetary gift earlier this year was done in haste. We have been reviewing our records over the last several weeks, and due to fiscal reasons, we are returning several monetary donations to their rightful owners – in the case that the gifter was identified, of course. While we sincerely appreciate your enthusiasm, we cannot accept your gift. Your check, as your bank will verify, has been voided.**_

_**Thank you for your interest in the community center.**_

_** Alison Brockman**_

_** River Grove Community Center, Manager**_

My fingers felt numb as I slowly pushed away from the desk and rose to my feet. Without thinking, I swung the stethoscope that hung around my neck onto a hook near the door. In another motion, I slid the white lab coat off of my shoulders and slung it messily over a chair before stepping out of the med lab and into the silvery corridor. Heels clicking against the floor noisily, I folded my arms over my chest and hurried toward the elevator, thoughts swirling.

The main level of the School was bustling with activity – a quick glance at my watch confirmed that classes had just let out. I passed several that greeted me by name, and even more that merely nodded at me. A few cleared their throats as they straightened up – one young man in particular readjusted his arm so that it no longer looked like a tentacle. Before I realized where I'd been heading, I found myself standing in the large staff kitchen, a can of soda open and in my hand.

I sipped at it dully, eyes focused on the large bay windows. A few students were already outside, bounding around with Frisbees, footballs, soccer balls, and even what appeared to be textbooks. _This is what counts_, I reminded myself with a sigh as I leaned against the counter, not caring if my perfectly ironed slacks got wrinkled or if my expensive blouse was marred by an unseen drop of juice.

"They look so happy out there." Ororo swept into the room quietly, her thoughts locked away as she crossed the room to put water in a familiar kettle before setting it on the stove. "You look as though caffeine should be your last choice, Mackenzie."

Smiling, I pivoted on my heel and took another sip as I watched her retrieve a pricey serving set that was nearly the smaller version of the heirlooms in the Professor's study. She placed several cups on the heavy, gaudy, silver tea tray as she hummed. The floral teapot was nestled gently in the center as she reached into a cupboard and pulled out a canister of tea.

"I don't know how you can drink that all of the time," I admitted as she daintily placed several large stacks of store-bought cookies on a plate on the tray. "It always smells so good, but after awhile it makes me feel like I'm drinking a meadow."

She grinned reflexively as she lifted a hand to push her ivory hair out of her blazing blue eyes. "Meadows are beautiful, unlike the unnatural syrups and lab-made products in your drink. Besides, tea is both refreshing, calming, and in many cases, delicious. Is something the matter? You don't generally prefer that brand."

I eyed the unfamiliar soda with a shrug before taking another hesitant sip. It tasted sugary and sweet, a little too sweet, but it helped to calm my quaking nerves. The very last thing I needed was to let the day's events get to me. "I'm fine," I murmured in response as I poured the rest of the can's contents into the drain. I knew that it was wasteful, but any more of the drink and I may have vomited. "Can I help you carry anything?"

"I can handle it, I believe. But thank you," she added hurriedly as the kettle began to whistle. With practiced ease, she finished preparing the tea before setting the empty kettle on a cool burner. As she hefted the tray into her hands, she lifted a dark brow in amusement. "On the other hand..."

With a faint smile, I lifted the tray with my TK. It hovered in the air in front of her, a few inches off of the palms of her hands, before she dropped them to the side. "So, how are your azaleas coming along?" I asked, prompting a conversation about her flowers* -– one that I could nearly tune out of as we walked together toward the Professor's study.

We were early, but we weren't the first to arrive. The Professor already sat at a small table in the corner by the windows, across from Sean Cassidy. When my eyes rested on the blond-headed man, I had to do a double-take. A week after he and Emma had arrived, he had cited business abroad before leaving for Europe. I hadn't even realized he'd returned.

"Hello ladies," he drawled, his voice laced with a heavy brogue. His eyes, a vibrant sky blue, seemed alight with laughter as he shifted in his seat slightly. He looked very European in a slate grey suit and loafers, contrasting the Professor's dark navy suit and bright red tie. "Aye, they've brought tea, the lovelies."

Ororo smiled warmly as I lifted a hand and maneuvered the tray onto a small rolling service station. As I sat down in a chair between the two men, Ororo hurriedly poured three cups of tea and served them before perching on the arm of the nearby leather couch. "Mr. Cassidy, I wasn't aware that you'd returned."

"Please, lass, call me Sean." Grinning at me, he took a quick sip of his tea before releasing a sharp sigh. "I was visiting with an old colleague on Muir Island –"

"Muir Island?" I interrupted, eyes wide in surprise. I'd yet to visit the research facility myself, but had long since communicated with the lead researcher and founder, Moira MacTaggart via e-mail, phone calls, and even video conferences. "I wasn't aware you were interested in such things."

He smiled faintly as he sipped at his tea again. "Moira is an old friend of mine, if I must be honest. I help maintain funding, so to speak. Round up potential investors, that sort of thing."

"Sean is being modest." Smiling politely as he sipped his tea, Professor Xavier seemed very in his element. "He helps attain a large portion of the Institute's funding as well. Why, without him, I can honestly say that this School wouldn't be what it is today."

With a faint nod, I offered the blonde-haired man the most encouraging smile I could muster, in spite of everything. "Then I suppose we owe you a great deal of thanks, Sean. Our students -– they are all so very lucky that men such as yourself and Charles are willing to travel leaps and bounds in order to see that the doors stay open."

"Well, when you –" he was cut off suddenly as someone cleared their throat from the doorway.

I scanned the vicinity mentally, eyes going wide in surprise as I jerked my head to the doorway and jumped to my feet in one smooth motion. "Grandmother?" I blurted out, jaw slack.

"Mackenzie, darling!" Unabashedly, a regal and willowy woman rushed across the room with more gracefulness than any woman her age should have possessed. Her hair was pulled back in a simple french twist, her steel grey hair adorned with magnificent diamond hair clips. As always, she was impeccably dressed, a dove blue dress suit with a fanciful beaded pin upon the lapel. "It's been too long," she whispered as she crushed me against her in a familiar hug.

Surprise momentarily forgotten, I wrapped my arms tight around her and sighed heavily, muscles relaxing. "You still smell like Shalimar," I murmured, breathing in her scent. Slowly, she pulled back, her bright blue eyes meeting mine fiercely. "What are you doing here?"

She threw back her head and laughed as she rested her perfectly manicured hands atop my shoulders. Giving them an affectionate squeeze, she pulled away slightly and brushed a ringed hand over her hair, her gaze quickly sweeping the room. "I've been trying to get in touch with you for _weeks_, Mackenzie. When my assistant finally got through to the Institute's line, I spoke with your Charles Xavier."

"A pleasure to meet you in person, Mrs. Benton." With casual grace, the Professor maneuvered his wheelchair so that he was at my side, his lips curled in a warm smile. Politely, he offered her his hand. "I can certainly see where Mackenzie gets her elegant beauty."

On cue, my grandmother's cheeks flushed as she offered him a hand, hardly even blinking at the fact that he was wheelchair bound. "My, I had no idea that your Professor Xavier was such a handsome man. And please, Dr. Xavier, call me Bernadette. My dear Gregory's been gone almost ten years now."

"Charles will do quite nicely, in that case." Offering a polite and understanding nod, he lifted an arm and motioned to the vacated table where tea and cookies sat, waiting. "Would you care to join us, or would you like to get settled in?"

She patted at her hair again as her eyes met mine. "Some young fellow, some very _strapping_ young fellow, assured me that he would see to my luggage."

"That would have been Piotr," I offered, though the comment went unnoticed as she forged ahead.

"The flight from Spain was dreadfully long, Charles. I would very much like to settle in and perhaps freshen up. Again, I must thank you for opening your home so kindly to me." Her eyes met mine again and I noted a very familiar look -– the one that said questioning her arrangements was none of my business. "And you were right; it was quite easy to book a suite in the city and take a private car here. I certainly don't want the press hounding at my granddaughter anymore than you do."

Nodding politely, he ushered towards the door, where Kitty still stood, obviously a bit uncomfortable. "I urge you to settle in then, Bernadette. I've already arranged for the cook to prepare a meal for us this evening, and it should be served promptly at seven. Mackenzie, I'm sure you'd like to escort your grandmother to the room we've prepared for her?"

Mentally, he sent me the location of the room while politely admitting that she had wished for the visit to be a surprise, hence the secrecy. "Of course," I found myself murmuring as I escorted her out of the room, dazed.

"This place reminds me of the summer home we had in Martha's Vineyard," she commented as we walked the halls. Every now and then a student would pass by and she would nod or wave kindly, even to the more physically mutated students. "Quite lovely."

_What have you gotten me into, Xavier?_

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Grandmother Benson, oh my! Sorry if this chapter seems dull - things get interesting the next few chapters, so hang onto your hats._  
><em>


	24. Chapter Twenty Three

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

* * *

><p>"<em>You have to walk carefully in the beginning of love; the running across fields into your lover's arms can only come later when you're sure they won't laugh if you trip."—<em> Jonathan Carroll

_**-Chapter Twenty-Three-**_

"This really is a lovely room." Bernadette Benton continued to murmur quietly to herself as she paced around the room lightly, her eyes taking in every single antique, every portrait. The guest suites were far more extravagant than the rest of the Mansion, mainly because nothing was a knock-off, per se. After all, Xavier didn't want his children to risk breaking a priceless Ming vase. "It's really no wonder that you love it here."

I managed a nod as I sat down gently on the bed. Her luggage sat opened on a large chest at the foot of the bed, and several dry cleaning bags were already hanging in the closet. "I thought you were spending the rest of the month in Spain?"

"Plans change, darling," she quipped as she busied herself by looking through the largest of her suitcases. "I'm glad that I thought ahead and brought proper clothing. Oh, and I brought you something. There." Pointing, she waited until I rose from my seated position and wandered over to the closet. "Go on," she urged me, smiling as I glanced over my shoulder at her. "It's simply perfect for you."

Doubtful, but willing to humor her, I slowly unzipped a black garment bag, hesitant. "Oh my," I whispered on an exhale as I ran a tentative finger over the smooth cloth. "It's beautiful."

"I met a glorious designer during a luncheon weeks ago," she explained as she sat down on the edge of the bed. Folding her stocking-clad feet under her, she released a faint sigh and I picked up a few stray thoughts as she projected. "He was a very nice young man, absolute flamer, but a lovely man."

Unable to restrain a laugh, I simply shook my head as I slipped the garment bag off and pulled the dress out so that I could look at it. Except, it was more than a dress, far more. It was a beautiful gown, one done in an attractive midnight blue. "It's beautiful," I repeated as I held it against my chest and looked down, trying to picture myself in it.

It was a lovely off the shoulder number with a plunging neckline, a slit up the side that was accentuated by intricate bead work, and it was exquisitely backless.

"You'll look gorgeous in it," my grandmother murmured wistfully, causing me to glance over at her. Her eyes were clear and devoid of any tears, but I sensed the strong emotions coming from her. Almost weakly, she lifted a hand and reached for me, and I bound across the room quickly, dress slung over one arm. Her hand felt soft and familiar in mine as she curled her fingers around mine and squeezed my hand gently. "You grow more beautiful every time I see you, my darling."

"Grandmother," I murmured gently, surprised by the rush of emotions I felt waging a war inside of me. She'd always been my closest relative – my parents had doted on me, but had both been too busy with their careers and their social engagements to really show me the love that I'd always desired. But, my grandparents had always been there. Always. "I'm sorry you had to hear about the conference from a third party."

"Nonsense," she interrupted, shaking her head and squeezing my hand simultaneously. "I understand that your work keeps you busy, Mackenzie. It's a quality that your grandfather and I always found rather endearing." The mere mention of my grandfather made strong, warm memories spring to the forefront of my mind. "Now, my dear, why don't you let me settle in?"

Slowly, I released her hand and stood, dress still draped awkwardly over one arm. I felt like a little girl again as I smiled at her bashfully. "Are you sure? I mean, I could get you something to snack on. Want me to run you a bath? I could –" she cut me off with a warm and vibrant laugh.

"Mackenzie, I am well aware of the fact that I am getting on in years, but I can assure you that I am quite capable of running my own bath should I choose to do so." Elegantly, she slipped off of the bed and removed the hair clips from her hair gently. As she worked on taking down her delicately put up hair, she spared me another smile. "Go on now, girl. We'll have plenty of time to talk later. Take that dress with you. I'll show you the matching shawl and shoes later."

The little girl in me wanted to whine pathetically and curl up on her bed and breathe in her scent until I fell asleep. But, the woman in me knew that I had things to do, things that needed my attention. Reluctantly, I nodded my head and slipped out the door, gently closing it behind me.

"Your babushka is a nice woman."

Startled, I jumped at the sight of Piotr leaning against the opposite wall, a faint smile upon his normally stoic face. I managed a faint nod as I continued down the hall. "She really is," I murmured in agreement as he fell into step beside me. "Thank you for taking care of her luggage, Piotr. Knowing my grandmother, I imagine it was enough for a small army."

He smiled knowingly, but offered nothing other than a nod as we approached my room. Very much the gentleman, he stood outside of the door, to the side, and waited for me to hang the dress in my closet and then freshen my lip gloss. "I am not sure if you have seen Jubilation but –"

"Has something happened?" I asked, eyes wide as I searched the Mansion telepathically, finding nothing amiss. "What is it?"

"It is nothing so as important as to raise the alarms, I assure you," he spoke calmly, his accent a bit less obvious than normal. "I simply wondered whether or not you had seen the flowers that were delivered to your office."

Blinking, I stared at him in confusion before I slowly managed to shake my head. "Excuse me? Flowers?"

He smiled, a full-toothed grin as he nodded his head once. "Yes. They were delivered right after your babushka arrived. I -– I assume that you have not been informed?"

"No, but thank you," I murmured, brows furrowed in thought. Instead of taking the stairs, I accessed the hidden panel and called for the elevator, barely managing a nod when he said his goodbyes and disappeared down the hall. It took but a few minutes for me to get to my lab, and then to my office. "Oh my."

Every available surface was covered in a mesmerizing meadow of colorful flowers. Roses of every color, daffodils, daisies -– flowers I couldn't even name, let alone fully appreciate; they filled the room with such an overpowering scent that tears filled my eyes.

My fingers shook as I lifted different flowers and sniffed them in appreciation. After several minutes of all-around bafflement, I spotted a large white envelope propped against my name plate on my desk -– my name written in a familiar broad scrawl.

A smile curled my lips as I opened it quickly and pulled out a single page note that was written on familiar stationary.

_**"My Dearest Mackenzie,**_

_** It occurred to me that during our courting process, I'd yet to buy you flowers. Of course, when I wandered into the flower shop, I realized that I had no fathomable idea what on earth was your favorite flower.**_

_** In order to rectify this unforgivable error, I found no other option than to send you every beautiful flower that the clerk had on hand. **_

_** Though none can even hope to compare to your beauty, their scents and sights can certainly add to the delectable aroma that is all you, pet. You are the warmth in my heart, the sunshine that greets my face when I rise every morning, and the presence that keeps me grounded.**_

_** With love,**_

_** Hank"**_

My breath caught in my throat as I stared down at the letter and re-read it at least three more times. The words and their meaning were so profound, so utterly romantic, that tears streamed down my face. I had to fight the urge to try to reach out telepathically, to find him in New York City, where he had gone the day before. Instead, I collapsed into a chair and simply clung to the letter as my thoughts swirled.

_You don't deserve him_, I couldn't help but think. _No woman deserves a man so perfect._


	25. Chapter Twenty Four

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

* * *

><p>"<em>Jealousy is all the fun you think they had."—<em> Erica Jong

_**-Chapter Twenty-Four-**_

"My, you certainly do have more students here than I originally thought." Sparing several wandering students a polite nod, my grandmother allowed me to shepherd her into the large and informal kitchen that was often used by the team. Nearly everyone was already gathered, most were sitting, but everyone seemed to sense our presence at the same moment. "Hello darlings."

Clearing his throat, the Professor motioned to a seat beside him that had always been reserved for Jean. "Won't you please join us, Bernadette? I was just informed that they will be serving the salads any moment."

Refreshed and dressed in a very charming cream pantsuit, my grandmother's cheeks flushed before she swept over to the Professor and they chatted in hushed tones before she slid into the seat that he'd motioned to. A pit formed in my stomach as they laughed quietly together, and I fought the urge to eavesdrop mentally.

"Chere," a voice murmured huskily to my left, causing me to glance over at Remy in surprise. "Ain't seem much o' you lately. Been busy wit' de big blue furry man?"

I laughed in response as he escorted me to the table, quickly removing his hand from my behind when I pinched him in the side. "And you haven't been down to the med lab in at least a _week_, LeBeau. Have you been busy cuddling with Aubrey by chance?"

A smirk curled his lips as he pulled out my chair for me before slipping around the table to take his seat between Aubrey and Robert. I nodded in thanks as I placed my napkin in my lap and sipped from a glass of water daintily.

"Ah heard someone sent yah some flowers." Smiling, Rogue nudged me under the table with her foot before she broke a piece of bread into several pieces. "So when's he comin' back?"

"When is who coming back, darling?" My grandmother's gaze met mine and I blinked, aware of the fact that her booming voice had drawn everyone's attention to me. I nearly choked on my water before I managed to sit the glass on the table, albeit shakily. "Mackenzie, are you –" she began, only to be interrupted when several uniformed servers entered the room with trays filled with salads.

It wasn't often that they were present outside of the large cafeteria, mainly because I think Xavier felt it important that the children feel as though the Institute was as much like a _normal_ school as possible; servants just didn't fit the bill.

Everyone was quiet as the salads were served, and conversation gradually picked back up as Jubilee craftily managed to cause Aubrey to announce that she was planning on going back to MIT the coming semester to finish up her degree. "But, it's still, like -– in the works. No guarantees," the blue-haired woman muttered as she shoved a fork full of salad into her awaiting mouth.

"Oui, Remy been telllin' his chere dat she need t' go back," Remy commented from beside her. Unlike most of the other men at the table, he was sprawled in his chair, treating it more like a throne than a dining room chair. "She t'ink dat dey not gonna let 'er cause of de mutation."

"They might," Kitty piped up as she passed a basket of bread across the table to St. John. "I got declined to Illinois because of my background. NYU accepted me, and so did a few other places." Her eyes met mine as I sent her comforting thoughts, and she managed a slight smile. "It's not fair, but nothing in life is."

The table was quiet for several long moments -– the projections were so strong that I had to take a moment for myself in order to strengthen my shields. I blinked in surprise as the servers reappeared to take away our salads. Dishes were scattered across the table and filled with delicious foods; everything ranging from broccoli to scalloped potatoes and green beans, to pork loin and seared lamb chops and even ribeyes. It was a smorgasbord of a feast.

"When is Emma expected back from the city?" Scott asked quietly as he grabbed the salt shaker that was floating through the air, courtesy of me.

"I do believe she should be arriving later this evening with Henry," Ororo supplied with a faint nod. "They both had matters to attend to in the city, but I think that they agreed to travel together. Safer that way, I suppose."

I frowned in thought as I spooned scalloped potatoes onto my plate. While there was no reason for Hank and Emma to _not_ get along, the very idea of them spending any time together alone was a bit disconcerting. I still wasn't sure where I sat with Emma, nor she with me, but I felt as though we weren't exactly _enemies_ anymore. Still, that did not rule out the chance that she could use the hours alone with Hank for her own benefit. Jealousy and fear roared up inside of me so strongly and so suddenly that I was astounded to realize that I'd put my fork through my plate.

"Mackenzie?" Xavier murmured as I blinked away the fog. I felt him brush against my mind gently and I slapped him away as though he were a pesky fly. He sucked in a sharp breath and I glanced over at him blankly. "Are you all right?"

I managed a nod before staring at my plate in confusion, half-wondering why my fork had pierced the china and was imbedded in the wood beneath. Part of me realized that I must have used my TK to do it, but the rest of me wondered how I was supposed to finish my meal. "I -– I am fine," I whispered as I pushed my plate away. "I've got a lot on my mind, and I'm rather tired." It was a pitiful excuse, I knew, but the only one I could come up with at such short notice.

"I see you didn't bother to keep dinner warm for us, Charles." Stunned, I glanced up as Emma swept into the room, a white mink sable around her shoulders. Hank stepped into the room beside her, a fedora pulled low over his eyes. He took her sable and slipped out of the room without even meeting my gaze, and Emma slipped into a chair between Rogue and Ororo with a faint smile. "Ah, wine. I for one could certainly use a drink after the long day I've had."

Several moments passed before Hank reentered the room and sat down at the opposite end of the table next to Piotr. He shoveled food onto his plate and kept his voice quiet as he conversed with those around him. I started to reach out to him mentally when Emma's voice caused me to jerk my head in her direction.

"I didn't realize we had company. I'm Emma Frost of Frost Industries." She daintily reached across the table and offered my grandmother her hand before sitting back down. "I didn't realize you were in the country, Mrs. Benton."

My grandmother blinked once before nodding. "That's correct." She folded her hands together atop the table and smiled warmly. "Why, little Emma Frost? I haven't seen you since you were much, much younger. I see you fell in with the media, based on your hair choice."

To my surprise, Emma didn't retort immediately and instead poured herself a glass of wine. "Well, you know what they say, Mrs. Benton -– sex sells."

Pride welled up inside of me when my grandmother merely smiled before forking up a bite of what appeared to be lamb. "So do brains, dear."

A number of people chuckled, but Rogue was the only person other than myself that laughed outright. I cleared my throat and sipped my water quickly, eyes focused on my plate rather than daring to glance toward Emma whom, I assumed, was attempting to glare me into pieces.

"I didn't realize that Henry and Mackenzie were already at the stage in their relationship where they were introducing one another to their families." Emma's voice, cold as ice and laced with sarcasm, caused me to glance first toward my grandmother and then towards Hank. "Ah, love is such a sweet, sweet thing."

_Emma_, I warned, grinding my teeth when she laughed in my head. _Why must you always be such a cold witch?_

**Mackenzie, darling**, she murmured, whispering really. **You must have me mistaken me with someone that actually cares how she is perceived by others.**

_That much is certain_, I agreed as Hank cleared his throat. "Actually, Emma, I wasn't aware that Hank was going to be returning this evening. My grandmother's visit was a bit of a surprise, so I hadn't had a chance to warn him of her impending arrival." I met his gaze and offered a shaky smile, one that he almost managed to return. "But, now that you mention it, I am hoping that the three of us will be able to have lunch together tomorrow so that they can get to know one another."

"Who is Henry -– Hank?" my grandmother asked, her voice a bit sharper than normal. The look she spared me was one of confusion and suspicion. Though, there was something in her gaze that warned me she wasn't as naive as she pretended to be. "Mackenzie?"

"Excuse me, Ma'am, but I am Henry, or Hank to my friends." Although Hank sounded normal, his voice had taken on the professional air that he often used while talking to strangers or giving speeches. "Henry McCoy."

"Ah," she murmured, her eyes narrowing slightly when he stood up. I touched against her mind briefly and witnessed firsthand the surprise at his appearance. "You're -– you're the mutant from the television. The one that served on the President's Cabinet for some time."

The entire table was silent, save for the sounds of chewing and forks clanging, as Hank murmured a yes. "I am, yes."

"I see." Her eyes were a bit icier than normal as she slowly nodded her head. Daintily, she picked up her glass of white wine and sipped it, her brows furrowed in thought. Abruptly, she turned her attention to the man next to her. "Charles, what is it that you were telling me about the funding for your School? I think I should like to perhaps become an investor."

I awkwardly shifted in my seat and looked toward Hank's end of the table under my lashes. He looked rather defeated as he leaned back in his chair, his eyes downcast and averted. It took a moment for me to brush against his mind, and I was surprised by how guarded he was.

_Hank, is everything okay?_

**Quite fine, Mackenzie**, he replied, although a bit more harshly than I'd have expected. **It's simply been a long few days.**

I felt him fighting the urge to say more, to express more; instead the telepathic conversation was silent. I knew that if I wanted to I could breach his mental shields and see for myself, but Hank didn't deserve such treatment. Feeling a bit nauseous, I folded my hands in my lap and simply stared at my unusable plate.

_ Did you get the message I left you about the flowers?_

**I did**, he replied, his voice sounding slightly tired in my mind. **I am glad that you liked them.**

_The note was beautiful, Henry_, I whispered, brushing against his mind gently. _Never before have I -_–

He cut me off suddenly when he stood up and cleared his throat. I jerked upright in my seat and stared at him, eyes wide in confusion. "If you'll all excuse me, I'm afraid I'm feeling a little ill. It's been a long two days and I think a bit of rest will do me a world of wonder." Lips thinned, he nodded toward the opposite end of the table where my grandmother sat, eyes wide in confusion and focused on his large form. "Mrs. Benton, it's been a pleasure meeting you. Good evening, everyone."

Hank practically barreled out of the room, leaving a table full of people simply staring at his wake in confusion. I felt the Professor brush against my mind before I batted him away in annoyance, seeking and finding Henry instantly.

_Henry? Can I get you any - _

A gasp escaped my lips as he promptly threw up a strong shield; one much stronger than I thought him capable of producing. It wouldn't stop me, not if I wanted to pry. But, it was an obvious _No Trespassing_ sign. One that rocked me to the core. Emma brushed against my mind and I swatted her away as I lost myself in my own thoughts. I couldn't stop wondering what I had done wrong.


	26. Chapter Twenty Five

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

* * *

><p>"<em>Love isn't finding a perfect person. It's seeing an imperfect person perfectly."—<em> Sam Keen

_**-Chapter Twenty-Five-**_

I felt clumsy as I stalked down the corridor as quietly as I could manage. The halls were completely silent, as suspected, and minds throughout the Mansion were no more than static. There were a few scattered across the estate that were still awake, but I was able to shield myself from them.

Swallowing thickly, I hugged the soft robe closer to me as I retied it for the fifth time, ensuring that I was covered properly as I approached the door at the end of the hall. Had it been nearly any other night, I would have checked the lab first. But, I had detected him mentally, and knew that he was sitting in his room, at his desk, working on paperwork.

Nervously, I lifted a hand and knocked at the door softly, well aware of the fact that Logan's room was three doors down and Scott's was just down the hall. The very last thing I wanted was to be caught _after curfew_, knocking on my supposed boyfriend's door.

"Mackenzie?" He seemed surprised as he pulled open the door, the room's light back-lighting his flannel pajama pants, bare chest, and open black robe. "Is everything okay? Has something happened?"

I shook my head and licked my lips quickly before I clutched my closed robe awkwardly. "Can I come in?" Though the question was quiet, he seemed to hear as he backed up and motioned for me to enter the room.

His room was a suite much like my own, except very decorated in his own sense of style. The walls were a rich and deep blue, the carpet thick and an off-cream color, and the furniture looked both sturdy and rustic. His bed was turned down, but looked untouched; his desk on the other hand was covered in files, textbooks, two monitors, a keyboard, and a closed laptop.

"It's quite late," he murmured as he shut the door gently. A moment later, he was standing in front of me, eyes narrowed in thought. "Are you okay?"

Against my will, my lips started trembling. I felt the tears gather in my lashes, and I tried to blink them away as I struggled to find the words. "Hank – I'm sorry." The words were blundered as they escaped my lips, and almost instantly forgotten as he gently pulled me into his arms.

He smelled like aftershave and Twinkies, an odd but comforting combination. His chest felt warm against my face as I buried my cheek against his hard body. It always amazed me how naturally soft he felt. Although his body was covered in thick blue hair, sort of like fur, it felt so natural. While his hackles could get a bit unkempt and outrageous, the rest of his body, that I'd seen, always seemed so neat, so trim.

His arms wrapped around me quickly and he murmured several things against my hair, but I heard nothing as I clung to him desperately. I wanted to memorize everything from the feel of his body against mine to the way his heart beat.

"What is it?" he repeated, his voice breaking through the fog. "Mackenzie." Abruptly, he held me at arm's length, his hands warm against my shoulders. "What's happened?"

"I didn't know my grandmother was coming for a visit," I blurted out, wincing at the harsh pitch that my voice had taken. "I was meeting with Xavier when she showed up, Hank. I haven't talked to her for at least a month. It's _not_ that I didn't want her to know about you. None of my family knows, none of my friends."

He stiffened drastically and his grip on my shoulders increased ten-fold. Wincing, I stared up at him, eyes glossy with unshed tears. "I see," he responded calmly, his comforting voice replaced with the one he reserved for strangers and politics.

"No, you don't." Gritting my teeth , I latched my fingers around his robe and tugged it toward me, attempting to pull him closer to me. "My family – it's not like yours. Yes, we're both only children, but my parents never – they never loved me, Hank. To them, I've always only been someone to carry on the legacy. I've always only been a disappointment. My aunts and uncles were never any different. I haven't been on speaking terms with the majority of my family since I first came to Xavier's."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he offered, his voice still cold, calculating.

Eyes narrowed in anger, I attempted to shake him, though I only managed to mangle his robe. "You _don't_ understand, Hank! That's the point!" Hissing, I released my hold on his robe and balled my hands at my sides. "I love my grandmother. I loved my grandfather. They're honestly the only people in my family that gave an honest damn about me. But, ever since my grandpa died, she's been different."

I paused for a moment and closed my eyes, willing the tears away before I inhaled sharply. "She married young – met my grandfather when she was sixteen and he was nineteen. She claims that she never got to travel, to see the world. Since his death, the woman's been traveling the world, seeing and experiencing things that I could only dream of. It's hard to stay in contact. So, you'll have to excuse me if I didn't want to tell her via the fucking phone that I was dating someone."

He seemed as startled as I was by the vulgarity of my words. I wasn't known for cursing, and even in heated moments I normally managed to tame my language. His eyes were widened as he reached out and grabbed me by the wrists. "I understand," he murmured, though I knew he didn't.

"She was scheduled to come back next month, and I was going to tell her." I searched his eyes, saddened by the fact that he still seemed so doubtful, so defeated. "We have a standing date whenever she gets back into the country, Hank. While her staff airs out the estate, we _always_ have a day at the salon, lunch – the works. I wanted to tell her in person." My eyes pleading, I searched his gaze again, willing him to understand the awkward position I'd wedged myself into. "Why is it so hard for you to believe that I wanted to tell my grandmother that I'm in love in person?"

His jaw noticeably clenched and I stared up at him in confusion as my own words settled over me. Though his grip on my wrists was a bit tight, I didn't mind as he leaned down slightly. "What did you just say?" he whispered, words unsure and cautionary.

I licked my lips and blinked back the tears as I inhaled sharply. "Okay, so that really wasn't the way I wanted to get that out there," I admitted, grumbling under my breath. "I – I think I knew even before the flowers and the note, Hank. But, when I walked into my office and saw the beauty that you'd brought into my life, I knew that you were it. Without a doubt." Stumbling over my words, I swallowed the lump that had formed inexplicably in my throat. "I had no idea you were coming back tonight until dinner. But, I had all of these plans in my head about how lovely it would be to surprise you in the city in a day or two – how we could make reservations at a hotel for the two of us."

His hold on my wrists decreased dramatically as he began to run his thumbs over my pulse, a soothing and comforting motion. "I feel as though I've firmly inserted my large foot into my mouth," he admitted, frowning as a tear slid down my cheek. "It was a very difficult few days in the city, pet. I should have never taken my frustration out on you." I shook slightly as he pulled me against his chest, embracing me.

I fought back the sobs that threatened to overtake me and simply clung to the lapels of his robe. He purred slightly, his chest vibrating. It was a soothing sound, one that chased away the tears. "I broke a plate because of you tonight," I admitted, feeling increasingly childish.

"You did what?" he asked, alarmed and confused at the same time. His arms tightened around me as he began to use his hands to run circles against my back. "What happened?"

I smiled against his chest as I closed my eyes and simply breathed in his scent. "When I heard you were traveling with Emma, I thought the worst. Not of you," I hastily added when his ministrations paused for a moment. "Of her. I know you think it's ridiculous, but I'm still not sure I can fully trust her. And – well, she's Emma. It isn't completely out of the question for her to try to seduce a handsome, brilliant, incredibly eligible man such as yourself."

He chuckled, his chest rumbling against me as he hugged me tighter to him. "Pet, your imagination has run away with you."

"I'm serious," I murmured, voice a little unsure. "When I heard that you were traveling together, all I could think about was how she could try to seduce you, how she might succeed. If she had been in the room before I'd calmed down, I may have stabbed her with the fork instead," I whispered, ashamed at my words.

He was silent for several long, agonizing moments before he chuckled. "I can safely say that Emma made absolutely no attempts to sway me under her nefarious ways. While she was an interesting traveling companion, rest assured I would have much rather had your company. Now." His chest rumbled with another purr as he paused his ministrations. "What was it you were saying about _being in love_?"

I smiled, even as nervousness filled me from head to toe. It was one thing to harbor such emotions, it was another to express them – to fear they not be reciprocated. "I – I guess I did say that aloud, didn't I?" In an attempt to buy some time, I simply breathed in his scent and fought the urge to brush against his mind; I knew as soon as I did I would search for the answers I had no right to _steal_. "Remember that night, our first date? You showed me that memory – me walking down those stairs in that siren red dress?"

"A man would be an absolute fool to forget," he murmured in response.

Sighing, I snuggled closer, if possible, and just clung to him. "That night, you said that you weren't looking for something casual. At first, I thought it meant that we were going to be monogamous – which, let's be honest, is the only way I will see a man. But, as time's gone by, I've sort of been thinking along the same lines, maybe even more so than you. I'm not looking for anything casual, Hank. I've dated men for longer, though now I'm not sure why. I always told myself I wasn't one of those women that would continue dating a man without knowing that there was a future for the two of us involved."

"Monogamy is very important to me," he agreed.

"It's not just about monogamy anymore though." The words seemed so distorted, so unbelievably unparalleled to the emotions that bridled inside of me. "When I was younger, I used to daydream about someday getting married; I suppose it's something that every little girl does at one point or another. But, then when I hit my teenage years, that all changed. I was different from everyone – my telepathy in particular made me feel so left out from the rest of the so-called _in crowd_. By the time I went away to college, I'd simply accepted that I'd probably never have that in my life. And I was okay with that. I was okay with knowing that I would probably date, maybe even take on a few serious lovers – but I'd never marry."

He pulled me away from him yet again, his eyes searching my face. "While this may be a bit off topic – you are quite skilled at rambling, pet."

I managed a smile, a shaky one at that, as I trembled in his arms. "I'm a doctor, Hank, not a politician. Words don't come as easily to me as I would like. What I'm trying to say is that –" I cut myself off sharply as I closed my eyes and gathered my thoughts. "I love you, Henry Philip McCoy. I love the way that your eyes twinkle when you laugh, the way that you focus your full attention on every single aspect of your life. You never leave anyone out of a conversation, and you do your best to include your friends, your students, in your life. You're inspirational, loving, romantic, and quirky. Best of all, you're my favorite color," I whispered the last part hesitantly.

"You smell like a warm spring rain," he murmured huskily, releasing his grip on my arms in order to cup my face gently. "When I look at you, I don't wonder what you see in me – if you see past the exterior. I see only a beautiful woman, one that is wise and patient and forgiving, one that laughs at me when I fall asleep at my computer, one that reminds me to eat when I'm having a trying day." Hesitantly, he brushed his soft fingers over my face, as though trying to memorize the moment. "I loved you before that party, Mackenzie. I fell in love with you our first Thanksgiving together."

Surprised, I blinked at him rapidly, eyes widened in confusion. I hurriedly thought back to the holiday in question, but could remember nothing that stuck out as overly important. "Really? I –" he cut me off by placing a chaste kiss on my nose.

"We were playing poker, me, you, Scott, and Jean. Scott was teasing me because I'd attempted to flirt with a barista the day before while we were shopping, and I was embarrassed. You promptly pointed out that –"

"That at least you had the courage to ask a woman out," I finished, smiling faintly. "Didn't I also tell him that he was probably the oldest virgin in the room?" I giggled.

He blushed immediately, his cheeks tinting a soft lilac. "Though I'm sure you'd be surprised to know that I was still a virgin until a year later."

"No, I picked that up through your shields," I admitted, grinning when his blush only increased. "There was no need to add that I was the only non-virgin in the room, because I knew that Jean certainly wouldn't claim one way or the other. But, _that_ was what did it? Me picking on Scott? I should have thought of that sooner."

Without warning, he pulled me against him, his hands cupping my face, and kissed me. His lips were warm and soft as they plundered mine, seeking and taking. A breathless moment later, he pulled back slightly and smirked – something that Hank rarely ever did. "No, pet. It was the fact that you managed to say as much before taking the pot with utter ease."

"What's this mean?" I asked, breathless as his hands began to roam across my back.

No words were said as he slowly scooped me into his arms, lifting me with ease. He turned on his heel quickly and deposited me onto his bed gently, his eyes blazing with unsaid words. I felt delicate and more beautiful than I ever had in my life when he sat down on the bed next to me, one hand braced on either side of me.

"I had planned on candlelight and roses, music and romance," he murmured as his fingers danced over my collarbone.

"Next time," I whispered as I grabbed him by his robe and jerked him down towards me. "Next time."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I do apologize for the long wait. I thought I posted this chapter! I didn't realize that I left you all with a cliffhanger. Please don't be mad. I hope this chapter makes up for it. Thank you to all of the people that have been kind enough to review and leave their thoughts. It means a lot to me.


	27. Chapter Twenty Six

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

"_In family life, love is the oil that eases friction, the cement that binds closer together, and the music that brings harmony." —_ Eva Burrows

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><p><em><strong>-Chapter Twenty-Six-<strong>_

"All of the students seem so well behaved," Bernadette Benton commented as Piotr excused himself from the kitchen. She offered the young man a subtle nod, her eyes raking over his backside before he disappeared from view. "Now that we're alone, I think it's time you tell me about your Hank."

I nearly spat my orange juice all over the table as I lifted my gaze to meet hers. Eyes smoldering, she poked at the grapefruit on her plate in an disinterested manner. "Grandmother," I began, cringing when she clucked her tongue at me. "I'm assuming you looked him up last night."

"I did not," she replied curtly as she spooned up a bit of grapefruit, ignoring it to stare at me. "But Amelia may have."

Groaning, I speared a slice of melon with my fork and considered flinging it at her. Instead, I bit back the childish impulse and merely sighed. "And?" If I had been a gambling woman, I would have put money on her personal assistant and sometimes secretary finding every single juicy detail of any person's past.

"And I know what she sent over this morning," she replied candidly. "I know he was a football star in high school, and took an academic scholarship to study Biophysics at NYU, much to everyone's surprise. There is little mention of his early connection to Xavier's, but based on the fact that he is a mutant . . ." she trailed off, lips pursed. "He graduated at the top of his class, and went on to get his Ph.D. He's regarded as the guru in his field, seriously dated two women throughout his college career before meeting a field reporter, Trish Tilby. They dated seriously for several years before he entered politics, at the encouragement of his peers."

Waving her hand in the air, as if to say _it was no big deal_, she continued. "While working on some project or another, he grew fur and his physical appearance changed. Amelia says she simply couldn't find much on it – but it was enough to skyrocket the lowly politician to a full-fledged political figurehead. He served a short eighteen months as Secretary of Mutant Affairs before stepping aside. And at some point during those long months, his fiancee of many years broke it off."

"Your sources are worth every penny, Grandmother," I assured her as I sighed. Her eyes were filled with concern, but she seemed merely interested. "If I had known you were coming back early, I would have filled you in on the situation beforehand."

"Filled me in on the situation?" she repeated, snorting in a very unladylike manner. "You speak poorly of him."

"No!" I groaned as I dropped my fork on the plate and cradled my head in my hands. The evening had been wonderful, perfect. But, the morning had seemed rushed.

Robert Drake had barged into Hank's room, unannounced, at seven, shouting that Hank was late for their monthly basketball game. Awkwardness and confusion had ensued before he'd slammed the door shut behind him, leaving me hiding under the blankets and Hank growling as he searched for his mysteriously missing robe. The Iceman, miraculously, had apparently kept the information to himself, as no one had acted any different towards me throughout the course of the morning.

"I've dated in the past," I spoke slowly, gathering my thoughts. "But, never this seriously, Grandmother. I love Hank. I _love him_. I want to spend the rest of my life with him." Weakly, I reached across the table, relieved when she clasped my hands in her own and squeezed gently. "I know a lot of people look at him and only _see_ what he looks like. But, he's a wonderful man. He's brilliant and funny and charismatic, sincere, and so utterly goofy sometimes."

Her lips curled in a comforting smile as her eyes glossed over slightly. Tears built in her eyes, but did not fall as she clenched my hands in a comforting manner. "I've never heard you use the word _love _before in relation to a man, darling."

"Because I've never even come close to feeling this way about another man in my life." Wistfully, I sighed, thoughts wandering back to the night before. He'd been so attentive, so caring, so thorough. "I never thought that I would find someone that could make me feel like this. But, now that I have I can assure you that nothing you or anyone else says will ever change the facts." I paused for a moment, lips pursed as I struggled to fight against the urge to brush against her mind. It would have been so much easier if I _knew_ what she was thinking. "I want you to like him."

"If he's even half the man you portray him to be, I am sure that I will love him too." Her voice was a bit wistful, but she kept her tears at bay as she squeezed my hands again. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she released my hands and picked up her spoon, toying with it as she poked at her forgotten grapefruit. "I'm assuming my idiot of a son hasn't been informed?"

Wincing, I shook my head. "I haven't talked to my mom or dad in awhile," I admitted. "The last few phone calls were a little rushed; I think they were getting ready for some benefit or another."

"Though I'm sure they've seen the few snippets in the tabloids." Sighing, she patted her hair gently, as though ensuring that no strands had escaped the lovely french twist. "Don't look so surprised, Mackenzie. One of the main reasons I bumped up my return date was because of an article in one of those trashy tabloids. Surely you realized that you and your beau have been tabloid fodder for some weeks? Even I was a little suspicious based on the photographic evidence."

"I had no idea," I managed, pressing a hand to my forehead. A headache was coming on, a pounding one. "No wonder why you thought this was all some sort of circus, Grandmother. I'm sorry – I honestly had no idea. Someone must have managed to snap a few candid shots of the two of us out on a date. I would have preferred to tell you face to face. That was the plan all along."

"I wanted to see you after I caught highlights of the conference," she admitted, smiling wryly. "I met with your father the moment I was back in the country. He's gone ballistic, darling. I'm sure you've probably gotten dozens of messages from him."

Wincing slightly, I shifted in my chair and thought about the dozens of messages that Xavier's temp had given me; I'd returned no calls, and had merely glanced at the piles that were from my parents. "I did try calling him, once or twice. Like I said," I muttered under my breath, "they were getting ready to leave and he didn't have time for me."

"Well, he may not have had time for you, but he certainly made time for me." Without any sort of warning, she rose from her seat and gathered up our dirtied dishes and walked them to the sink. Although my grandparents had always been well off, they'd kept very few staff members on. My grandmother was always involved in cooking and cleaning, even if she did have help. So, it wasn't completely foreign to watch her roll up the sleeves of her expensive blouse in order to rinse off the dishes before stacking them neatly in the dishwasher. "I met with him the moment I stepped off of the plane."

Again, I fought the urge to brush against her mind. Although we had communicated numerous times telepathically in the past, I knew that it left her feeling a little uncomfortable. "And?"

"As you well know, the majority of your father's assets come from a trust fund that your grandfather set up for him at birth. He gets a gratuitous amount yearly, enough to keep him comfortable in the lifestyle that he and your mother have chosen." Daintily, she shut the dishwasher and grabbed a blue towel and began to dry her hands. "Your grandfather's will left his entire estate to me, giving me full reign over everything. Your father wanted nothing to do with the company, so the board of directors is currently running it while we search for a suitable replacement. But, things have been smooth in the years since."

"As smooth as can be expected," I offered.

She smiled as she crossed the kitchen, gently righting the sleeves of her blouse before sitting down across from me. Lines were hardly evident around her eyes, and the doctor in me knew that she'd gotten a second face-lift in the last two years. "As such, your father wanted to discuss your inheritance. He _feels_ that you do not deserve to carry on the family name, let alone the legacy."

The room was still, completely quiet, as I digested the words. My parents had done their best to hide my _curse_ from the rest of the world. It was more their intolerance of my abilities than my own that had allowed me to gain control over my gifts in the beginning. Although they hadn't wanted me to attend Xavier's, in the fear that their friends would find out, I had. Still, it hadn't stopped them from urging me to retain as _normal_ a life as someone like me could possibly hope to have.

But, it hurt hearing the words from my grandmother; one of the few people in my life that had always supported my decisions.

"I understand."

"No, my dear. You don't." Huffing, she reached across the table sharply, her manicured nails digging into my skin as she grabbed me by the chin and forced me to meet her gaze. "I reminded your father that _I_ control the money now. Your father thought he knew what to expect from me, but frankly, my dear – your father's a moron."

I managed to laugh, although shakily, as my lips curled into a smile. "He clearly didn't inherit your brains."

"It skipped a generation," she quipped lightly, smiling. "I simply informed your father that my will is rock solid and quite clear. If anything should ever happen to me, _you_ will be my sole beneficiary. Your aunts, uncles, and cousins will all have a reasonable trust, one that will pay for college and the like. As will your father."

Stunned beyond belief, I simply stared at her. I'd never wanted for anything in my life, mostly because when I wasn't being coddled by nannies, I was traveling with my grandparents or visiting their summer homes. It was because of them that I had my head set on straight. "Why?" I found myself asking as I shook my head.

It was then that Hank entered the room and she gave my hands one last squeeze. She rose from her seat gracefully and slipped toward the exit, polite enough to offer Hank an encouraging smile before she turned back to me. "For one, your father is a complete imbecile. It's a wonder he made it through medical school. And," she laughed, shaking her head slightly as Hank looked between her and me in confusion. "I want to make sure my future great-grandchildren are well provided for. Good morning, Henry," she greeted him with a nod before slipping out of the room completely.

Gaping, I stared after her form as it disappeared, thoughts swirling. Hank, lips affixed with a confused but charming smile, slipped into the chair next to me and pecked a chaste kiss against my cheek before unfolding a newspaper and shaking it noisily.

"I think she likes me," he commented wryly.


	28. Chapter Twenty Seven

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

"_Never ignore a gut feeling, but never believe that it's enough." —_ Robert Heller

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter Twenty-Seven-<strong>_

"Duck!"

Instinct took over as I threw myself to the side and rolled, wincing as rocks dug into my back. An arc of fire rushed by me suddenly, engulfing the tree I had been standing next to. I clambered to my feet effortlessly, using a nearby car as a shield as I ducked an oncoming ball of fire.

"Nice looking out, Rogue," I commented, panting a bit as I braced my back against a brick building.

She blew her platinum bangs out of her eyes as she tugged off her gloves. "Ah'm gonna kill Aub and Kitty fo' this," she hissed as another pillar of fire hissed past the corner of the building. "Ready?"

The Danger Room scenario was the product of too much caffeine on the part of Voltic and Shadowcat. And although it bruised Scott's pride, it was definitely more lifelike and far superior to anything he'd ever worked up. Which meant that it was harder, more difficult – a larger pain than I'd anticipated.

"Sure," I grunted as I pushed myself off of the wall and fell into step behind her.

We matched strides as we ran side by side, ducking behind a car to avoid a blast of electricity from one of our enemies before I had to throw up a shield to ward off tranquilizing darts. A light post swayed from an unseen breeze, and I shoved Rogue as hard as I could and merely swatted the heavy metal light post away with my TK.

"Incoming!" she announced as the sound of a helicopter filled the air.

Anticipating her movements, I ducked behind a large SUV and she ducked behind a van. I peered through the broken side windows of the black SUV and frowned when I caught sight of the helicopter hovering several dozen feet off of the ground half a block up. Figures garbed in black slid down ropes that were tethered to the chopper; they landed in a clump on the split pavement before breaking into two groups and disappearing behind a building.

**Still ain't seen no sign of anyone**, she muttered over the telepathic rapport. **Pickin' anyone up?**

_No_, I replied, frowning as I tried to scan for any of our comrades. The object of the mission was to find our missing teammates before time expired, but there was no way to actually know how much time remained. The worst part of it all, for me, was the fact that no matter how realistic the holographic enemies were, I couldn't track their mental signatures -– they weren't real. _I'm going to head southeast. I want you to circle around the block. Keep to the buildings._

She murmured in agreement as I slipped out from behind the SUV and jogged down an alley. I checked to make sure no one was around before climbing up a fire escape, wincing when the metal clanged noisily. By the time I made it to the roof of what may have been a hardware store, Rogue's mental signature was already a block away. The roof tops were all the same height, so I was able to see for nearly a block unobstructed.

There was smoke in the distance and part of me knew that it was part of the simulation; they wanted it to be real, every single detail. It was supposed to be a simulation of real, unadulterated fear and chaos. I was no expert, but it looked pretty damn realistic to me.

A few strands of hair escaped the band as I jerked my head to the side sharply, eyes narrowed as I struggled to identify a sound. After several moments, it was completely silent. _Rogue_? I sought her out, feeling the telepathic link carefully. But there was nothing. She'd been so quickly severed that I hadn't even noticed. _Dammit_, I hissed as I ran across the roof, legs and arms pumping.

When I hit the edge of the roof, I kicked off, jumping. The air felt cool and smooth as it hissed against my uniform, teasing my skin. I used my TK and sailed across the gap between the two buildings and landed effortlessly on the other side, still running. I hopped over ventilation shafts, skidded over gravel, and dodged clothes lines as I ran across the rooftops. It was freeing, really. But, it was hard to lose myself in the sensations when there was so much still at stake.

A small explosion caused the buildings around me to vibrate dangerously, but I continued running. But, when I landed on the roof of a building – one that may have been an apartment building – it worsened. I used my TK and swung myself down through the alley, floating down to the ground to land in a half-crouch.

"Get her!" a voice bellowed.

Shocked, I glanced over my shoulder to find half a dozen armed men running toward me, faces hidden in the darkness. I was torn between fight or flight for a mere second before my instincts kicked in and I ran out of the alley. There was no point in scurrying up the side of a building, and I couldn't mentally shield myself from them like I could a normal enemy. And although they weren't _real_, they could still _hurt me_.

A school bus laid on its side a building over from the mouth of the alley, and I grunted as I swung a hand through the air and picked it up with my TK. It wobbled in the air slightly before it dropped down with a resounding _clang_ at the mouth of the alley. It wasn't much of a barricade, but it might manage to slow my opponents. Without ensuring that they were rooted for the moment, I turned on my heel sharply and took off down the littered street, chest heaving. When it had first been announced that Shadowcat and Voltic had teamed up to make a more realistic Danger Room scenario, I'd never anticipated it would have turned out so physically demanding.

_Rogue?_ I sought her out again as I paused under a building's overhang, back pressed against the plate glass windows. It took a long moment to catch my breath, but I didn't have the luxury of resting - not with so many men chasing after me. _Where is everyone?_ Of course, there was no reply. Not that I'd expected one.

The sound of footfalls alerted me to the nearby presence of my pursuers, and I let out a hiss of hot air as I pushed myself off of the front of the building and back out into the littered street. They called after me, taunting me - and the small part of me that I often denied having wanted nothing more than to run back to them and silence their voices. But, I fought against the childish urge and continued on my way. Nothing looked familiar on the dirty city street - there were no identifiable land markers, which was probably part of the point.

"Halt! If you do not cooperate, we will be forced to use drastic measures!" The helicopter, the very same one Rogue and I had spotted earlier, hovered no more than ten feet off of the pavement. A black-garbed individual hung out of the side of the chopper, armed with what appeared to be a semi-automatic rifle of some sort. "Will you comply, mutant?"

"No," I whispered, frowning as I glared at the helicopter. The wind brushed dirt and debris all around me, but I continued to focus on the helicopter, nearly sighing in relief as the rotors began to smoke and the pilot was forced to ground the vehicle permanently. Had it been real, I would have promptly used my telepathy to render the individuals unconscious. Since I could not, I simply disarmed the man and took off running, heart pounding.

Ten minutes passed in relative quiet, leaving me to wonder why on earth the simulation continued if I had already failed. Irritated and sweaty, I walked down an abandoned city sidewalk warily, eyes and ears straining to catch sight of something that wasn't even there. I caught sight of a building that was illuminated and frowned before hurrying toward it.

"Shoot!" I hissed under my breath as two men, clearly patrolling the front entrance, nearly caught sight of me before I ducked behind an overturned park bench. I waited a beat before peering over the top quickly, ascertaining that the two individuals were out of my line of sight before darting toward the building. The boarded-over door opened, with the help of my TK, but I did my best to right it behind me as I slipped into what appeared to be an deserted lobby. Nearly tripping over an aged and tattered rug, I skipped up a set of dusty stairs two at a time, ears perked.

The building appeared to have been a small, probably historic, hotel of some kind. I passed numerous empty (and destroyed) rooms before I reached the third floor. A muffled sound ate through the silence, piercing through me sharply as I paused mid-step. Glancing around, I searched for the source of the noise, but could find nothing. I crept down the long corridor quietly, pausing halfway in order to peer at a door curiously.

I nudged it open with my TK, losing control and sending it flying off of its hinges when I caught sight of my unconscious teammates. Julian and Jubilee, along with Piotr, sat together, gags over their mouths and their hands bound in front of them. Rogue, eyes wide, was the only one conscious- but she looked groggy.

"Rogue!" I hissed as I rushed forward, hands clawing at the binding around her gloved wrists. Her green eyes widened as I tugged at the bindings, annoyed when the strange material had no give. "I'm going to have to use my TK, Rogue. I need you to hold very still for me, okay?" I whispered, grimacing when she bobbed her head once in agreement.

I rested my fingertips upon the strange cool metal and concentrated, tearing the metal apart at its weakest points. After several seconds, the bindings fell away, leaving Rogue to pull at her gag with her gloved hands. "It's a trap!" she howled.

Without warning, the whole side of the building seemed to be ripped away by gale-force hurricane winds. The sound was deafening and frightening, and I clung to the unmoving bodies of my teammates, throwing myself over their prone forms, as the building trembled and shook. Plaster and dust tumbled down over top of us, causing me to wince as I pressed down on Rogue's shoulder, doing my best to shield their four bodies with mine.

_What's happened?_ I asked telepathically, looking up warily as dust filled the air. I couldn't see more than a foot in front of me, due to the dust settling, and I found it harder to breathe than necessary. Rogue clawed at my arm as I stood slowly, easing myself upward and ensuring that I didn't injure my unconscious teammates in any way, shape or form. _Rogue- what's happened?_

**It's over**, she replied as she lifted a hand and pointed at a red beam in the distance.

My eyes widened in alarm as I launched myself forward, a scream caught in my throat as I threw my hands upward defensively. Instinct caused me to raise a telekinetic shield instantly, shielding myself from the attack. Pain filled me as the heated beam struck my chest, reverberating through my shield like the force of a thousand men. A gasp escaped my throat as I was thrown backwards, the wind whistling in my ears as I crashed through a wall.

Without warning, the hotel room shifted and the plaster that had broken my fall turned into the flooring of the Danger Room. I blinked, eyes adjusting the bright lighting as Piotr, Jubilee, Julian, and Rogue all stood, dusting themselves off. Piotr wandered over slowly and extended his hand, pulling me to my feet. I winced as the breath rushed from my lungs, no doubt the result of the very realistic scenario that _could_ cause actual injury.

"And what the hell was that, Mac?" Scott's voice boomed, causing me to whip around on my heel and stare at him in confusion as he stormed into the Danger Room. Kitty and Aubrey followed in his wake, their eyes wide. "What were you thinking?"

The cobwebs in my mind slowed my response, and I merely stared at him for a long moment before lifting my hand and brushing my hair off of my sweaty forehead. "I found my teammates," I muttered in response, fatigued.

"True," he agreed, jaw tensed. "But, I didn't realize that getting yourself killed was part of any contingency plan we discussed beforehand."

Alarmed, I glanced over at the others before glancing down at my hands. There were a few bruises and scrapes, a small trickle of blood on my knuckles, and I knew without a doubt that I'd probably bruised a rib, or at least pulled a muscle in my side. But, I certainly wasn't dead. "The afterlife isn't so terrible after all."

He crossed the distance between us in three long-legged strides that ate up the distance like a stalking predator. Arms folded over his chest, he tilted his head to the side before releasing a long, pent-up sigh. "You're lucky it was just a simulation, Mac. That would have killed you."

Understanding washed over me like cool fingers dancing over my skin as I nodded jerkily, shivering. Without a word, I brushed past him and slipped out of the Danger Room. The silver corridor was vacant as I stalked toward the elevator, shaking hands at my sides. I'd never before considered myself completely selfless - but the scenario had revealed a part of myself I hadn't even known existed.

As I slapped my palm against the call button in the elevator, I let myself give into the weakness and simply slid down the elevator wall in order to sit down, chin resting upon my knees. Lost and weary, I closed my eyes and simply tried to _not_ feel.


	29. Chapter Twenty Eight

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

"_The most terrible fight is not when there is one opinion against another, the most terrible is when two men say the same thing - and fight about the interpretation, and this interpretation involves a difference of quality." —_ Soren Kierkegaard

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter Twenty-Eight-<strong>_

"You look absolutely divine."

A flush colored my neck and raced upwards as I allowed my eyes to trail up the impeccably dressed form of one Henry McCoy. The occasion had called for evening wear, and everyone had turned out in their best. The dress that my grandmother had picked up for me was a bit different than the numerous black dresses that seemed to fill the large ballroom, but I felt both comfortable and beautiful.

"I'm so glad that the Professor decided to go ahead with this." I glanced around the large and spacious room with a smile upon my face, taking in the sight of many of the X-Men (and Jr. X-Men) intermingling with the other guests. The fundraiser, one meant to promote understanding and peace among mutants and non-mutants, had been on the calendar for two years. At the last moment, Xavier had decided to offer up a positive visual for his guests - his staff, all undeniably mutants. "I do hope the meal is good. I'm rather hungry."

With a faint smile, Hank placed his hand on the small of my back and guided me toward a small group of individuals, all of whom looked vaguely familiar. "Senators, Congressmen and ladies," he greeted, nodding at the four individuals and their companions with a genuine smile. The wife of Senator Reed stiffened slightly, her overly-done face wrinkling up. "I do believe you had the opportunity to meet Dr. Benton at the congressional hearing?"

Senator Reed smiled shakily and offered me his hand. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Ms. Benton."

"That's Dr. Benton, Senator," I quipped with a grin, shaking his hand and ignoring the clammy feel of his skin upon mine. "Mrs. Reed," I nodded at the aging woman next to him. The other Senator, Richard Wilson, and the two Congressmen, Evelyn Baxter and Eric Samson, smiled at me politely. I sensed no actual hatred from any of them, but I certainly didn't sense any vague feeling of acceptance or encouragement from any of them. Simply put, they seemed simply tolerant. "If you'll please excuse us, I'd like to make sure that my grandmother is comfortable."

Hank offered a polite farewell as I slipped my arm through his and led him to a small and private table in the far corner where my grandmother, Piotr at her side, was holding court. Her friends, admirers, associates, and even her enemies gathered around her in a large semi-circle. She was dressed in an expensive and one-of-a-kind pale lilac dress that somehow made her seem younger, more vibrant. Her hair, worn up in a dazzling updo, fanned over her face gently and added to the allure of simple beauty.

"Ah, and here she is now." Lifting a manicured hand, she waved me and Hank over, ushering for us to stand near her. She clasped my hand within hers and squeezed it affectionately before motioning broadly to two men in tuxedos that looked vaguely familiar. "Mackenzie, darling - do you happen to remember Albert and Franklin? They're brothers and operators of Smith International."

"The pharmaceutical company?" I pondered aloud, smiling when the two men nodded. I slipped my arm out of Hank's and reached forward slowly, shaking both of their hands before resting my hand lightly upon Hank's forearm. "It's a pleasure to meet you again. It's been years."

"Your grandfather's funeral, I'd speculate," Albert commented wryly, his mustache twitching as he offered an apologetic smile. "We were just discussing numbers, actually. Your grandmother does not seem all that concerned about your business causing the company's stock to plummet forty-two points in the last week."

I cringed inwardly and glanced over at my grandmother briefly, taking note of her stoic features and the faint smirk upon her lips. She was either quite annoyed or quite entertained, perhaps a mixture of the two. Her lips twisted upward slightly, but she said nothing as she inclined her head in Piotr's direction. "Would you be a dear and fetch me a glass of champagne?" she asked quietly, resting her hand upon his shoulder briefly. He nodded quickly and stood, towering over nearly everyone nearby, before slipping away, his black tuxedo blending in with the other attendees. "Albert, I'll remind you that you're attending a function that not only acknowledges mutants, but promotes peace toward them."

"Business and politics never mix well, Bernadette - a lesson I was sure you would have learned by now," Albert spat, malice written across his features.

"I would imagine that this is not the time, nor the place, for such a discussion, gentlemen." Hank, ever the smooth-talker, cleared his throat gently as Piotr wound his way back through the crowd and stood at my grandmother's side, handing her the flute of champagne with a faint nod. "The music is simply amazing, is it not, pet? Bernadette? Would you do me the honor of sharing a dance?"

As expected, her cheeks colored slightly before she nodded, placing her flute of champagne upon the table before lifting her hand. I stepped away from Hank as he swept forward grandly, taking her hand in his and tucking it into the crook of his arm. "If you'll all excuse me," she murmured as she allowed Hank to guide her through the throngs of people, disappearing onto the nearly empty dance floor.

"Of course she'd dance with that furry -" Albert cut himself off sharply as Piotr wheeled around, face blank. The man's mustache twitched as his brother grabbed him by the elbow, jerking him backwards. Albert's dark brown eyes met mine for a moment and I didn't need my telepathy to sense the disgust and absolute hatred in his gaze. I shuddered but held my gaze, praying that the annoyance wasn't written clearly across my features. "It's okay, Frank - money speaks volumes."

"I hope you both have a lovely evening," I called out after them, eyes icy. They said nothing as they hustled through the crowd, leaving Piotr and I surrounded by a murmuring group of strangers. Without hesitation, I rested my hand upon his forearm and dragged him through the crowd. The muscles in his arm tensed under my hand, but he said nothing until we were on the dance floor. "You look rather dashing this evening, Piotr," I commented wryly, causing him to blush as I slipped one hand into his and the other onto his shoulder. He fell into the position easily, grasping my hand in his and resting his hand upon my waist gently. "I hope you can waltz."

He moved with far more agility than a man his size should have been capable of. Although he was quite obviously nervous and embarrassed, he appeared calm and nonchalant as he guided me across the room, his shoulders tense and his body taut. After several minutes, he released a short sigh and his gaze finally met mine.

"You move quite well, Dr. Benton."

Managing a grin, I nodded in thanks and continued to follow his lead, my eyes scanning the dance floor. Hank and my grandmother appeared to be lost in conversation, and I spotted Aubrey and Remy dancing together, their cheeks brushing and her bright blue hair matching her bright blue dress. Jubilee, Bobby, and St. John were grouped together on the far side of the dance floor, all looking a bit out of place. Kitty, much to my surprise, was twirling around with a young man with brown hair. He wasn't familiar, but I sensed no immediate malevolent thoughts.

The music ended and Piotr and I stood side by side, applauding the small string band as they rose and bowed. I wasn't quite sure where Charles had managed to find such skilled musicians, but I was certain that I wasn't the only one that appreciated the atmosphere. "Thank you for the dance, Piotr," I murmured as I pat his forearm gently. He flushed slightly before nodding and disappearing into the crowd, probably in order to find refreshments.

I stood surrounded by strangers for several moments and strengthened my mental shields. The crowded room was filled with mental energy - a great deal of it negative. I briefly brushed against Hank's mind, slightly surprised when he informed me that he'd been paged and needed to return a phone call to the Secretary of Defense, and that he'd return momentarily. Xavier, I was a bit startled to find, was engaged in conversation with my grandmother, and brushed against my mental shields gently before promptly closing me out.

"How long are you going to just stand there?"

Surprised, I blinked and glanced up, blue eyes widening slightly at the blonde haired man, body draped delicately in a black tuxedo, grinned at me. Jaw agape, I crossed the distance between us and allowed him to pull me into his arms, hugging him tightly. "Warren! What on earth are you doing here?"

He held me at arm's length, squeezing my shoulders affectionately, before shaking his head once. He dropped his hands to his side and we walked side by side off of the dance floor, pressed somewhat close together due to the crowd. "The Professor called me a few weeks ago and asked if I could make a public appearance. So here I am."

"Even after the _Cure_ incident?" I queried, allowing him to guide me out onto a large and spacious terrace. The night air was cool against my bare skin, but it helped to alleviate the warmth that had been caused by the crowded dance floor. "Why didn't you warn me, Warren?"

He sighed as he leaned his back against the railing, legs crossed at the ankle. "You know it's nothing personal, Mackenzie. I'm doing all that I can to sway my father's point of view, but I'm really not sure that he's ever going to change."

"Is he still upset that you help fund Xavier's?"

"Of course." Sighing, his sky blue eyes met mine, searching for something. "No matter how long it's been, he seems convinced that there's just got to be a way that I can be _normal_. I'm a grown man - I'm the head of Advertising and yet it feels like I'm still a little ten year old boy."

My first instinct was to heal, and I rested my fingers upon his forearm briefly before shaking my head. I hadn't been able to reach Warren since the incident at his company's secret facility on Alcatraz Island, and part of me wasn't even really sure what to say. The friendship that we'd began as students at Xavier's had continued through college, as we'd had a lot in common and had always traveled in similar circles. During my residency, we'd even tried dating for all of two months before realizing it had been far too weird, despite everything.

"One of these days it's not going to be one of those gossip fodder magazines that catches sight of you, Warren." It was a warning- cloaked in advice. "One of these days your terrible little secret is going to get out and your only choice will be to roll with the punches."

"Oh, you mean like announcing it to hundreds of strangers at a conference - a conference that was later aired across the world?" Rolling his eyes, he sighed yet again, his gaze drifting away from mine. His tuxedo looked impeccable - probably Armani - and rippled slightly with every movement. "I do what I can, when I can."

It was an argument that we'd had numerous times over the years, and yet I couldn't bring myself to throw the same old facts in his face. The night was too lovely, too important, for such juvenile accusations. Instead, I merely sighed, releasing the frustration, and stared at his profile in concern. "Then you probably shouldn't be at this benefit. You know as well as I do that -"

"I've been a promoter of peace ever since I first stepped into the public spotlight, Mac." Clearly annoyed, he straightened suddenly, brushing his fingertips over the lapel of his tuxedo jacket jerkily. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with me being here. In fact, it's good for the company's public image."

I brushed up against him with my TK and saw him visibly wince as he straightened his shoulders reflexively. "That's not good for them, you know," I found myself whispering, voice low and laced with sadness. His gaze met mine again and I searched their blue depths for some sign of the man that had once been so jovial and carefree during his weekends at the Institute. "What happened to the boy that used to charge a date for a flight around the Grounds?"

Face devoid of emotion, he glanced away and headed back toward the open glass doors, arms at his side. As he reached the door, he stopped, my gaze on his back. "He grew up and realized that life isn't as carefree as he'd like it to be." Wordlessly, he slipped back into the crowded room, disappearing through the dancing couples.

I stared at the sea of unfamiliar faces for a long moment before I turned on my heel, eyes focused but unseeing. Below the balcony laid beautiful gardens and a large fountain that was, no doubt, admired by many. It was a relaxing sight, but it did little to ease the tenseness in my shoulders and neck. Something just felt a little off.

"Was that Warren?" I glanced over my shoulder, a smile adorning my face, as Hank bustled out onto the balcony. He looked a little flustered, distracted. "Sorry about my brief absence, pet. There is a bit of a situation that requires my so-called expertise. I've been called to Washington."

Confused, I peered up at him curiously as I turned on my heel, ignoring the feel of the cool railing pressed against my back. "What is it, Hank? What's happened?"

His lips thinned slightly as he gently took me by the elbow and led me back inside and onto the dance floor. He was quiet until we reached the corner that my grandmother had occupied- I was surprised to find that she was still engaged in conversation with Xavier at a small table in the corner. "The facility that was holding Magneto was breached twelve hours ago. The President wants it kept under wraps; I've been asked to oversee the investigation."

"Why?" I prompted even as he steered me toward Xavier. I sat down next to my mentor, sitting on the edge of the chair and leaning forward as though planning to jump out of my seat at any given moment. With a worn smile, Hank leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to my forehead before turning and offering Xavier his hand. "When will you be back?"

"Well, I'm not quite sure," he murmured, lips thinned in thought. "I had hoped that -"

"Excuse me."

The four of us glanced over in confusion as a man interrupted the private conversation. He emerged from the crowd gracefully, his body lean and tall. He was dressed in slightly out of date attire, and looked far too pale to be perfectly healthy. But, it was his eyes that caused me to shudder involuntarily - they were pitch black.

"Dr. Benton - it's so lovely to finally meet you in person." Without prompting, he crossed the distance between us and took my hand in his, kissing the back of it. His lips were cold and the touch was so impersonal and clinical that I jerked my hand back reflexively, eyes locked onto his. He smiled, his lips curling back to reveal perfect white teeth. "I had hoped that Miss Frost would accompany you tonight, but I suppose that a challenge is always welcomed."

I rose to my feet sharply, sending my chair toppling back. But, before I could reply, absolute chaos took the event by storm. Within mere seconds, the situation was completely out of control.

_Magneto_.


	30. Chapter Twenty Nine

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

"_Aggressive fighting for the right is the noblest sport the world affords."—_ Theodore Roosevelt

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter Twenty-Nine-<strong>_

"He isn't wearing his helmet!" I shouted as I thrust my hand out, using my TK to send a table flying at the infamous mutant known as Magneto. He merely slipped out of the way of the oncoming table before sending a sphere of metal flying in my direction. With a hiss, I dove behind the table that my grandmother and Xavier hunkered behind, though it seemed to do little to provide the Professor any cover- seeing as how he was merely slumped forward in his wheelchair. "I can't get a lock on anyone."

Xavier's gaze met mine momentarily before he jerkily nodded his head, seemingly agreeing with my assessment. Worry pitted itself in my gut as I crouched behind the table, wincing as the sounds of chaos and destruction continued around us. "We need to evacuate the building."

"That's easier said than done," I spat, a bit more venom in my voice than intended. "Hank went to make the necessary phone calls . . ." I trailed off, as if anticipating that Hank would bound over the table at the mere mention of his name- with the news that help was on its way. I thought briefly of the strange pale man before a chair flew over our heads, forcing the man from my thoughts completely. "I can't even figure out who all is with him."

A loud, thunderous boom echoed through the large room, causing overhead chandeliers to shatter. Glass from plates, glasses, and windows fell to the floor in a cacophony of tinkling. I threw myself over my grandmother, wincing as I threw up a quick telekinetic shield that saved us from being injured by the falling glass. A moment later, another boom echoed through the room, this one sending something slamming into a wall so hard that I heard it actually splinter.

"Arclight," Xavier offered as I lifted my head, hand resting upon my grandmother's shoulder. "Erik is indeed not wearing his helmet, but he's completely unreachable. It's- well, it's as if he's merely a puppet." Which certainly didn't sound good. "We need to get to the students."

I debated for a moment before glancing down at my grandmother and then over at Xavier. While he wasn't exactly capable of close-quarters-combat, I knew that his gift would at least allow him to fend off any opponent that would dare try to harm her. Still, it was hard to nod in agreement as I tossed my shawl down onto the floor. The midnight blue dress, with a slit clear up the side and absolutely no back to speak of, certainly wasn't the sort of thing I would have preferred to wear for such an experience, but I had no real choice in the matter.

I pulled a gaudy hair clip out of my hair and pressed it into my grandmother's clenched fingers, squeezing her hand gently before licking my lips in concentration. "You'll keep her safe, Charles?" I asked, my voice no more than a whisper. His eyes were alight with concentration as he nodded, brushing against my mind briefly before I turned on my heel. Taking a deep breath, I rose a telekinetic shield around myself and lunged forward, like a runner pushing out of the blocks.

More glass flew by my head as I ran with all of my might, leaping over fallen chairs and dodging oncoming projectiles. To my amazement, most of the room had already been emptied. There were a few people here and there hunkering behind something, and nearly a dozen unconscious on the floor. But, I didn't have the time to stop and check for pulses - if they were hurt there would be no saving them.

"Dr. Benton!" a voice wailed. A mild moment of relief coursed through me at the sight of Kitty's head peeking through the top of a lopsided table. She grimaced slightly as a chair leg sailed through her head, leaving her completely uninjured. "Jubes is hurt."

With a nod, I dove behind the table with her, erecting a large enough telekinetic shield around the group of us that I would, hopefully, have enough time to see to Jubilation. To my surprise, St. John, Bobby and Kitty were all grouped around the unconscious Asian-American. Blood trickled down her forehead and her color was far too pale, but her pulse was strong. "Where's Piotr? Aubrey and Remy?"  
>f0<p>

Bobby shook his head jerkily, grimacing. "Haven't seen anyone. It took us by surprise." He paused for a moment before glancing at Kitty, concern clearly written across his face. "People fled and the crowd was too - it was too much."

"Jubilee will be fine," I assured them as I rested my palm against her cool forehead. I closed my eyes for a moment, blocking out the sounds of the chaos around me, and released a short sigh when I brushed against her thoughts. Eyes fluttering open, I pressed my lips into a thin line and shook my head. "I can't maintain contact with her; nor can I construct the usual telepathic network. There's some sort of interference."

"What do we do?"

Despite the fact that he was, in fact, the so-called leader of the Jr. X-Men, Bobby looked to me for advice. I gazed at him intently for a long moment before I released an exasperated sigh. I simply did not know what to do. "We need to reach the Mansion," I murmured, wincing as something struck the table and caused it to rattle. "Logan and Rogue stayed behind."

"So did Storm and Mr. Summers," Kitty added, voice quiet.

I searched the room mentally, shivering outwardly when I hit a proverbial brick wall. It was like trying to breach the Professor's protective veil, it was so strong. Even attempting to weasel my way in through a crack in the defense was pointless; I'd been unable to find a single weak point. It was like going blind- like a Danger Room scenario. "I'm flying blind in here," I murmured, shivering yet again. "I think Piotr's still here somewhere- as are Remy and Aubrey."

"I saw Pete leading a few people out," Bobby offered, nodding his head slightly. "Arclight's with Magneto, but that's the only person I saw with him. Maybe - maybe if we can take her out we'll have a chance."

I nodded jerkily, wincing as something else hit the table and caused it to wobble. "Kitty, I need you to get Jubilee somewhere safe." She tensed visibly as she crouched at Jubilee's side, her hand resting on the Asian-American's shoulder. "This floor is completely invisible to me, but I can't sense anything on the ground floor." She nodded her head, her hair bouncing. Like everyone else, she was dressed in formal wear - her dark brown dress, a smooth chocolate color, and her heels certainly weren't made for fighting, but we had no real choice. "Get her to the ground floor and find a telephone. We need to reach the Institute. Bobby -"

"I'm staying with you, Dr. Benton," he interrupted, lips thinned. He rested a hand on Kitty's shoulder for a split second before he tore off his tuxedo jacket and draped it over Jubilee gently. "Kitty - see if you can't find the others. We'll hold them off."

It certainly wasn't the greatest plan, but Cyclops wasn't around and we couldn't rely on his ever-strategic mind to save us. I filed away the worry that squelched inside of me as I thought about Hank, reminding myself that he had left to warn everyone, and was safe. "Go, Kitty. Now!"

Still crouched next to Jubilee, she phased through the floor with a nod, taking the unconscious girl with her. I searched for Kitty mentally, sweat beading my brow as I struggled against the strange invisible wall. And then suddenly, I felt Kitty in all of her glory. She sent me a mental image of their location and I was relieved when I saw that they were in the lobby and that Hank was with her. And then, just as suddenly, I was blocked off again.

**Not so fast, Dr. Benton**, a voice mentally screamed in my mind.

I jerked back so sharply that I rammed myself against Bobby in my confusion, eyes widened in alarm. He caught me by my shoulders, his icy blue eyes narrowed in confusion as he set me on my feet. "Dr. Benton? Mackenzie? Did they make it?"

"There's someone here, I think," I managed, looping my arm through his more for my benefit than for his. "There's another telepath and something else - behind all of this."

"Can't you find them? Stop them?" he asked, voice near a pleading note.

I shook my head sharply, disgust clearly written across my features. "I can't even reach out further than you on this floor, Bobby. And the rest of the building is completely hit and miss." It frightened me that I couldn't even sense my grandmother, nor Xavier, just across the room. "If I can distract Arclight, can you disable her?" I barked.

He nodded as I released my hold on his arm and peered around the side of the table. Arclight, dressed in tight-fitting leather, stood in front of a large picturesque window, her hands at her sides. I scoured the room for Magneto, and caught sight of him standing near where I had left my grandmother with Xavier. He hovered several feet in the air, garbed in his usual outfit, minus the cape and helmet. He looked lost, aged.

"I'm ready," he murmured from behind me, and I felt the room's temperature drop slightly. Without waiting, I ran out from behind the table, sliding on fallen glass.

Arclight responded immediately, slamming her palms together and sending a wave of seismic energy toward me. I skidded on liquid, probably champagne, and slammed into a wall. The force of her blast brushed against me, teasing my skin with its heat, but left me standing. I turned sharply on my heel, wobbling on the stilts that were my shoes momentarily before glaring at the angel-faced Arclight. Her eyes were blank, devoid of any emotion. Like Magneto's.

"Arclight!" I shouted, wincing when she sent another force of energy at me. I lifted a hand immediately, shielding myself. A chair split into pieces and slammed against my shield, followed immediately by a large portion of a table. Wincing, I watched as the shattered objects ricocheted off of the shield. "You can't win this! You know you can't!"

She responded almost immediately by slamming her palms together. The sound of the boom was so loud that I instinctively covered my ears, groaning as more debris slammed against my telekinetic shield. For a moment, I feared that it would give, that it would simply shatter and that I would be impaled by flying objects. Instead, it held.

"Duck!" a voice bellowed as I dodged to the side instinctively. As I hit the floor, I skidded, rolling over onto my side to watch, amazed, as ice crept up Arclight's body and covered her up to just below her nose. "Got her!"

For a split second, I thought that it would hold. But, as soon as the thought crossed my mind it was vanished when an unseen force caused the ice tomb to shatter into millions of pieces. Shards of ice rained down upon me as I stared in confusion, gasping as the angered woman slapped her palms together and sent a rippling force of energy toward Iceman.

A cry escaped his lips as he sailed through the air and hit the wall painfully, the sound echoing in the cavernous room. My heart racing, I struggled to my feet, ignoring the biting pain of glass tearing into my palms. "Bobby!" I shouted in spite of myself. Our secret identities no longer mattered, at least not to me. All that mattered was seeing my students, my friends, were safe. "You're going to pay for that."

Hissing, I sent a telekinetic wave at the woman, catching her by surprise. She slammed into an overturned table with a dull _thunk_, causing a smile to curl my lips upwards. Without hesitation, I stalked forward, holding her in place when she tried to stand. Those blank eyes met mine and I found myself searching mentally, seeking a reason for her unexplained behavior.

What I found was alarming in every manner. There was another controlling her, another being so elusive that I could not get a lock on their mental signature, nor their location. Still foggy, I retracted mentally and blinked at her, gritting my teeth when she tried to rise to her feet yet again.

Sorrow and regret filled me as I struck out mentally, slamming into her mind with a psi bolt that tore through the feeble mental shielding that her puppeteer had over her. Her dark eyes rolled back in her head as she went limp, body sprawled across the floor carelessly.

**My, aren't we smart**.

It was the same voice, the same mental presence, as earlier. The moment I tried to hone in on it, it was gone. Startled, I spun around in a circle, eyes wide and heart racing. Magneto, or the man that was normally Magneto, stared at me blankly as he hovered in the air. Without warning, he lifted his hand and the whole building began to tremble.

I thought instantly of Bobby and glanced over, words caught in my throat as I watched a small section of what appeared to be some sort of plastic, perhaps metal, wrap about his waist. And then - he was sailing out of the window, limp and clearly unconscious.

"No!" Terrified and confused, I staggered forward, misinterpreting Magneto's focus on Bobby. I'd expected that he had forgotten about me, that he would be too busy focusing on Bobby that he wouldn't even notice me moving toward him. But, I was wrong. The building trembled again and I saw nothing even remotely human in the Master of Magnetism's gaze.

Like I'd done with Arclight, I attempted to reach out mentally, fully intending to render him unconscious via a psi bolt. But, I didn't have enough time. The building trembled again and I realized, a moment too late, that it was going to come down around me.

A gasp left my lips as I again tried to seek Hank out mentally, only to fail. Not a moment too late, I threw up a shield around myself as the ceiling caved in. A flash of movement to my side caught my eye and I blinked, confused, at the sight of a vaguely familiar figure. Something hit my shield and I groaned as I hit the floor, face slapping painfully against the broken bits of glass and debris. Something else hit my shield and I hissed as my hold dropped and I blacked out.


	31. Chapter Thirty

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

"_However confused the scene of our life appears, however torn we may be who now do face that scene, it can be faced, and we can go on to be whole." —_ Muriel Rukeyser

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter Thirty-<strong>_

"You're looking a little worse for wear, Mackenzie."

I blinked groggily, a blurry figure coming into focus a little bit at a time. My mind blanked as I stared up at those familiar green eyes, took in those arched red brows and the tangled red hair. "Jean?"

"You look as though you've seen a ghost." She smiled, those unpainted lips curled as she helped me into a sitting position. "Be careful. Your chest is probably a little sore. I think you might have bruised a few ribs."

I winced as pain rocked through me, causing me to brace my left hand against my side. I took a mental inventory of my injuries, surprised as I found that she was probably right – my ribs felt tender. My left shoulder was sore, but I had full movement, and my face felt scraped raw. "You're alive," I managed, throat dry and scratchy.

"I suppose that one might call this life an existence of some sort." She stood, drawing my attention to the room we occupied. "They have us under video surveillance, but as far as I've been able to ascertain, there's no sound feed."

I glanced around warily, taking in the commode in the corner, the small sink and desk and chair – the chair appeared to be bolted to the ground. I appeared to be sitting on a small bed, one that was made for one person. The door drew my attention and I stared at it for a long moment, spying no handle and no hinges – which meant that we were probably shut and bolted in.

"Where the hell are we?"

"Somewhere in Nevada," she responded softly. "I don't know our exact location, but I've managed to pick up a little bit from the people that have come through. Don't bother." She shook her head when I stared at the wall, attempting to use my TK to rip through it. "He's done something – he's done something so that my powers are severely hampered. Whenever one of them brings in food or changes the bed sheets, I can skim their mind, but nothing more. I got out once – I got out and I was free to use my abilities. But, he stopped me."

"He?" I repeated, wincing as I slung my legs around and put my feet on the cool floor. I glanced down, surprised to find that I was dressed in grey sweats and a green tank top – the same as Jean. Not only that, but I was wearing thin ballet slippers. "What in the hell happened?"

She sat back down next to me slowly, careful to keep a bit of distance between the two of us. "From what I was able to gather, he got to you through Magneto. The building was coming down and he got you out, brought you here."

"When was that?" And why couldn't I remember anything about the party, but trying to stop Magneto?

"Three days ago, give or take. The only way to judge days passing is by how often they bring in the food. You might have been here for a day or two before that though." Her eyes softened as she reached out, resting her hand gently upon my shoulder. "It's best if you don't remember that."

"I don't understand, Jean. You're supposed to be dead – I _should_ be dead." I swallowed thickly and leaned back, resting my head against the cinder block wall. "Are we dead?"

"That's what Essex wants you to think, what he wants you to feel." The name reminded me of something, but it was hard to put a finger on. "I can still use my telepathy a bit, I think. When they first brought you in, I was trying to skim your thoughts, but I'm not sure if I actually got through. You and Hank?" she smiled weakly.

Instead of responding, I reached up gently, resting my hand upon hers. A moment later, we were connected mentally and she shared her knowledge, her thoughts and fears. I gasped as we severed the connection what felt like hours later. I blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of all of the stuff she put in my head.

"Essex is Sinister?" I murmured, trying to wrap my head around the knowledge. "I can't believe you survived what happened at Alkali Lake, Jean. I can't believe it. I – a telekinetic shield, wasn't it? He found you, dragged you out of the lake and locked you up before you'd recovered. It's amazing." I'd never _once_ given any thought to whether or not Jean might have survived the incident. Xavier had officially declared her dead, and he was the most powerful telepath in the entire world. There had been no reason to ever think otherwise. "I'm sorry."

She blinked at me in surprise, her face twisting up in what might have been mock horror. "Sorry? _You're_ sorry?" She was on her feet in an instant, pacing the small room restlessly. "I've been trapped in here for God knows how long, without my friends, my family – without Scott. I can't even let anyone know that I'm really alive, that I'm here. Essex went to my funeral, the son of a bitch. The funeral my parents had for me. He made me watch it through his eyes, how they mourned me, how they cried as they lowered an empty casket into the ground. Don't you tell me _you're_ sorry, Mackenzie."

I didn't know what to say. She was right. She was completely right.

"How are we going to get out of here?" It was a pointless question based on the fact that she'd been trapped for so very long, but it was a necessary question nonetheless. "There has to be a way out of here, Jean. There just has to be and we'll—"

"We'll what? We can't even use our telekinetic powers, Mackenzie, and they're our best bet." She continued to pace, her movements jagged and hardly as smooth as I remembered them being. "I meditate for hours, or for what seems like hours, trying to reach out to the Professor mentally, but I've never, ever been able to get through. There's too much interference. The only time I managed to get out that door," she paused, staring at the heavy door that incarcerated us, "there were dozens, if not hundreds of armed men ready to mow me down."

"But, what about the stuff you showed me? Where Essex was –"

"They drug the food sometimes," she replied softly, eyes slightly unfocused. "You never know when they do it. You try not to eat, but after a few days, your body is weak and you give in. Even if you manage _not_ to give in, they don't let you die with any sort of dignity. They drag you out when you're laying in your own filth, waiting to die; they pump you full of steroids and shove a tube down your nose into your throat until you have enough energy to move on your own."

Grimacing, I watched her pace, wondering how on earth she had managed to survive such a thing for _so_ long. It sounded impossible, and I wondered if I'd have the strength, the mental and physical and emotional strength to survive such an ordeal. There was always the possibility that we would be trapped indefinitely, and I wasn't sure if I could withstand such a long period.

"How often does Essex have you drugged so that he can –"

"So that he can run experiments on me, you mean?" Her face was rather blank as she turned on her heel, slowly. Her eyes seemed to tear right through me, seemed to see straight through my soul. It was unnerving, but I managed to remain somewhat calm as I stared back at her. "It's not often, but it still happens too often, if that makes sense. We can't rely on the off-handed chance that we'll be pulled out for experimentation. And trust me, Mackenzie – it's not something we _want_ to happen."

She had a point, of course, but I was quickly running out of solutions. We were trapped, together, and nobody but me knew that she was alive in the first place.

"You said the building went down," I murmured, closing my eyes and inhaling deeply. "When they don't find me, they'll start looking. Maybe they'll find traces of my mental signature, maybe they'll –"

"Mackenzie." Her look was searing as she crossed the short distance between us to crouch in front of me, her hands resting upon my knees. "Hold out your left arm." Both confused and a little concerned, I held out my arm, frowning when she cupped my wrist and twisted my arm to the side, revealing what looked like a sloppy patch job on my bicep. "They made sure to leave a trace of your blood. Logan will probably pick that up." Her fingers brushed over the stitched slit, which looked to be at least three inches long. Oddly enough, it wasn't at all painful. "They'll want to believe, but they'll have no reason to."

She stood slowly, releasing her hold on my wrist and turning on her heel in order to continue her pacing. I watched her, unable to do much else. I was torn between wanting to scream and wanting to sob – it was inconceivable.

"That's it," I whispered, closing my eyes tightly. "I was hurt and I'm unconscious. This is clearly a fictitious sort of dream; maybe I'm in a coma. I'm not sure why I'm dreaming and thinking about you, Jean. Maybe it's because I was put in a similar situation as you, one that I wasn't strong enough to survive? Anything's possible."

Her thoughts slammed into mine viciously and I gasped aloud as I lived through the horror she'd experienced in the months since her _supposed death_. I felt the electrodes being attached to my skin, felt Essex probing my mind as he took and took and took until I felt completely drained of any memories or thoughts, dreams or feelings.

"Did _that_ feel like a dream?" Her green eyes were dark and haunted as she backed away, face drawn. "Welcome to my reality."

She wandered over to the corner and left me alone on the narrow cot of a bed, my legs drawn up against my chest. I didn't know what to say, what to think – how to even react to the situation. Tears prickled my eyes, but I refused to let them fall as I closed my eyes and shivered.

_I'm sorry_, I sent in her direction, unsure of whether or not she'd even heard. _I'm sorry_.


	32. Chapter Thirty One

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

"The only way to find true happiness is to risk being completely cut open."_—_ Chuck Palahniuk

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter Thirty-One-<strong>_

"Rise and shine."

I groaned as the imposing door slid open and two heavily armed men slipped inside. My weakening reserves of strength struggled to kick in as I was dragged to my feet and my hands forced behind my back. Before I could do more than howl in anger, they'd placed handcuffs on me.

"Leave her alone!" Jean's voice was shrill over the sound of my own pleads and cries – but it didn't seem to register as one man produced a syringe and jammed it into my neck. "Hang on, Mackenzie! Just keep fighting!"

My vision waved and blurred as I was lifted off of my feet and carried out of the room. I tried to focus, to remember the twists and turns they took; I couldn't concentrate. My body felt heavy and leaden, as though I hadn't slept in ages. As a doctor, I knew that my body was experiencing complete exhaustion and would begin shutting down soon. Regardless of Jean's prompting and begging, I'd refused the food that had been brought to us several times a day, and had only sipped some of the water from the small faucet. My muscles were rigid and unused and despite my efforts, my mind was cloudy.

Voices washed over me as I struggled to sit up, only to be pushed back onto a cold surface. My vision sharpened and a familiar face swam into view that caused my skin to literally crawl. I thought briefly of his appearance at the event that had led to my capture before Jean's memories flitted through my mind. Vicious, like a caged animal fighting for freedom, I thrashed and howled, fighting against the restraints as several men strapped me to a metal examination table.

"There is no sense in fighting, my dear," the pale-skinned man practically slithered as an iv was inserted none-too-gently into my hand. I winced and blinked, trying to force away the strange blurry shapes that had taken hold at the corners of my vision. "You've been misbehaving, Mackenzie. I cannot tolerate this sort of attitude."

"Screw yourself," I managed, gasping for breath when something undeniably hot pierced the skin of my abdomen. "Stop! Please, stop it!"

The familiar sight of an oxygen mask descending toward me filled my vision before my eyes rolled back in my head. I could hear his murmurs, could sense him moving around, but I couldn't open my eyes for what felt like hours. When I opened them again, he had a clipboard in his hands and was busy jotting down notes.

"You make quite the exceptional subject," he commented as he moved to stand near the examination table. My body felt numb and, although I wanted to, I couldn't seem to even wiggle my toes. "The paralytic serum was for your own good. You see, I didn't want you to experience any more pain than necessary. Of course, for the experimentation to show the true results, some things must remain standard. Oh, thank you."

Another figured wandered over to stand next to him, but I closed my eyes, unable to bear the sight. I just kept thinking that if I could pass out, he'd simply disappear. Or something. The fact that I was considering an _or something_ terrified me – I'd always been a fighter.

"I'm sorry, dear."

Something cool pressed against my abdomen and I grunted in pain as my eyes flew open. My vision was sharpened, enhanced, and it seemed as though I could see dust particles in the air. His eyes, solid red, focused on my face and I shivered inwardly. He was everywhere at once – his mind invaded mine and seemed to screech through my thoughts, my memories, even as he mentally trailed his cold fingers over every inch of my skin.

There was no escape.

**Fear not**, he murmured as I closed my eyes, begging for reprieve. **This is for the good of our kind. **

I wanted to reply, I wanted to scream at him and call him a psychopathic prick – instead I started laughing. The sound was so foreign to my own ears that I didn't realize it was me at first. I thought he was scraping a scalpel against metal.

**Everyone breaks**, he promised, his mind slamming down upon mine with a psi bolt that caused my entire body to convulse. **Do not bother trying to be strong, Mackenzie. I promise you this one thing: if you do not bow, I will break you in two**.

I tasted blood in my mouth and wiggled my tongue around, surprised when I spat up a bit – it _was _blood. And then, to my elation and confusion, the heavy veil that had been placed over me seemed to slip slightly. It didn't fall, nor did it break, but it seemed to peek open slightly – enough so that I could almost taste freedom.

The lights overhead flickered and the small gap widened, allowing the unwanted thoughts of dozens of people to pierce my mind – I hadn't bothered with my shields since I had been made powerless. Elated, I sent out a mental scream, one that was weakened by my poor physical state of health, but strong enough to render several of my victims unconscious.

I felt Sinister place his hand upon my forehead, but I fought back. The lights dimmed and a hum echoed in the room before the power went out. A split second later, I pushed outward with every remaining ounce of my strength, pleading and praying to a God I wasn't sure existed.

_Xavier!_

I put every part of me into it – every aching and bruised part of me. A mere moment later, the lights flickered back on and the veil was back, falling over me like a heavy metal curtain.

"That was very unwise."

Smirking in response, I merely squealed in surprise as his sharp fingernails pierced the skin of my forehead and he hit me with a psi bolt so powerful I was instantly unconscious.

But, even in my unconscious state, I felt his probing thoughts.

It would never end.


	33. Chapter Thirty Two

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

**Warning:** This chapter contains suggestive sexual themes. Please do not read if you are uncomfortable with (somewhat taboo) sexual themes.

_"Beauty has often overpowered the resolutions of the firm, and the reasonings of the wise, roused the old to sensibility, and subdued the rigorous to softness."_ _—_ Samuel Johnson

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter Thirty-Two-<strong>_

"Hank?"

His hands were warm as they skimmed over my skin, tracing small circles on my stomach. I found myself smiling sleepily as I opened my eyes, pleased by the sight of his dark blue face. The sheet fluttered against my legs, whisper-soft, as he tugged it down to reveal my bare body to the sunlight filtering in through the window.

"You're so soft," he whispered, his voice strangely feminine. His fingertips brushed over my naval and I smiled, closing my eyes. "I need to be touched."

Confused, I opened my eyes as he took my hands gently within his own and guided them downward. I flushed deeply as I wrapped my fingers around him, surprised by the width of him. He released a soft groan and a hiss of breath against my shoulder that was slightly erotic. His hand was large, covering mine as I continued to pump my hand up and down.

"So beautiful," he groaned as his lips raked over my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. I closed my eyes and reveled in the feel of him as his free hand danced over my bare breasts and trickled down my chest, over my navel, and between my thighs. "So soft, so wet."

I groaned as my hips lifted upwards of their own volition and I thrust myself against his hand like some wanton woman. His fingers curled and my eyes flew open and I blinked, my vision blurring as his face came into sight.

"Hank?" I whispered, trembling as my hand stilled upon him. His fingers tightened around mine until I continued pumping slowly, still blinking as he blinked in and out of focus. "Hank, stop," I murmured as he stopped his ministrations, his hand splayed intimately over me. After a moment, he traced his fingers over me, causing my body to tremble with need. But something was off.

"What is it, my pet?" his voice rumbled as he tightened his grip on my hand, urging me to speed up my hand's pumping.

There was something wrong, something off, and I couldn't put my finger on it. There was something I was supposed to remember, something I was supposed to be figuring out. But, I couldn't remember what. All I could think about was the feel of his hands upon my skin, the way his fur tickled my sides and how warm I felt.

I pressed against his mind gently, as was habit - and found nothing, nothing but raw passion and . . .

I sat up quickly, eyes flying open as I fought my way out of the dream, sweat trickling down my forehead. My chest ached as I braced myself on my elbows and glanced around, trying to figure out where I was.

And then it all came crashing down on me.

I remembered the charity event, Magneto's sudden attack, waking up in a cell with a very-much-still-alive Jean Grey, being tortured, experimented upon, by Essex. When I managed to catch my breath, I realized that my entire body was damp with sweat despite the cool temperature of the room.

"Jean?" I whispered when my eyes adjusted to the dimness and I examined her still form beside me. Her red hair was pushed back and the thin blanket was pulled over her, but her face was beaded with sweat. "Oh God, you're burning up." I tugged the blanket down and her eyes flew open the same instant.

Embarrassed, I nearly tumbled off of the side of the small cot of a bed when I realized that she was indeed burning up, but for an entirely different reason. Her green tank top was pulled up slightly, exposing her breasts and the fact that the fingers of one hand were busy squeezing and kneading the flesh. What was more, however, was the fact that her other hand disappeared under the hem of her grey sweats.

"Oh my God," I muttered and closed my eyes, wincing in pain. "What in the hell are you doing?"

She didn't respond and the only sound in the room for several long moments was her heavy breathing. "Sorry," she finally responded, her voice huskier than normal.

Assuming she'd straightened her clothing and the like, I opened my eyes warily, only to find that she was staring straight at me as her hands continued to move. I simply stared at her for a moment before my jaw fell open in shock. "Jean! What in the hell?"

She closed her eyes for a moment and moaned, throwing her head back against the wall slightly and arching her body toward me. The next instant, her mind brushed against mine and mind-blowing sensations washed over me. Against my own will, my body responded and I bit back a cry of surprise as I balled my hands and forced myself to slide off of the small bed. I landed in a heap next to it, eyes still trained on her.

She weaved our thoughts together so that I could feel every tremor, every stroke of her fingers, every caress. She whispered in my mind, gasped and begged for release as she continued to push herself closer to that plateau.

And when she hit it, the sensation washed over me like an electrical current. Her groan of bliss echoed in the room and I found myself echoing it slightly as my body betrayed me, responding greedily to the sensations she'd forced me to feel.

Those green eyes fluttered open and she stared at me unabashedly for several seconds before she slowly slid her hand out from inside her grey sweats. For a moment, I wondered if she would try to play it off as if it never happened - and I was kind of hoping she would. It was awkward enough without talking about it.

"That felt good," were the words that fluttered out of her mouth as she licked her dry lips, smiling slightly.

"You -" I cut off sharply and shook my head, unsure of what to even say. "That was _you_. You were eavesdropping."

She didn't deny it, at all, and instead simply stared at me as one of her hands continued to knead her breasts. Her thoughts brushed against mine again and in the space of a second, I relived the realistic dream I'd been having about Hank.

"Stop it!" I demanded, nearly shouting as I slapped my hand against the bed. "Get the hell out of my head!"

"You have no idea what it's like going so long without human contact." Her words were delivered softly as she shook her head, tangled hair falling over her forehead. She continued to lie on her side, back against the wall, breasts partially displayed for the world to see. A musty scent filled the air that I tried to ignore, and I knew where it came from. "You were sleeping so well, smiling and murmuring under your breath. I got curious."

I stared at her for a long moment and wondered where the quiet and usually timid Jean Grey had gone. I'd thought that I had known her, had known her limitations and her inhibitions. But, I'd clearly underestimated her.

"That's a breach of privacy, and you know it." I felt as though I were preaching to the choir, as she'd always been Xavier's golden girl - and he was certainly known for his high-and-mighty morals. "Could you just, I don't know, not do that?" I asked, disgust clearly written on my face as she continued to knead her breasts. Her face was rosy, flushed even, and her eyes were kind of glassy. "Jean."

"I haven't done that in so long," she admitted, slowly pulling her shirt down and simply staring at her hands, as though amazed. "There was never any need with Scott and, well, I'd never felt inspired here. I'm sorry for eavesdropping, I really am, but I think the physical contact helped. I feel more like me than I have in a long time."

_What in the hell am I supposed to say?_ I thought to myself as I warily scooted upwards to sit on the end of the bed, positioning myself so that I could watch her. Although I wasn't sure why, I was a little ill at ease with her, almost afraid that she'd suddenly throw herself at me.

"I never would have thought of you as a bigger prude than me, Mackenzie," she laughed, the sound echoing in our cage of a room. "Don't tell me you've never done anything like that before."

"Even if I had, it's certainly none of your business," I spat, feeling oddly violated. She'd breached my privacy, my memories and my dreams, and had - I shivered at the thought. She'd inserted herself into my dream in place of Hank. It wasn't right. "I may be stuck in here with you for the foreseeable future, but if you ever do that again, you'll spend the rest of your time unconscious."

She lifted a dark red brow in surprise as she sat up, her hair falling over her shoulders and the hem of her shirt lifting slightly to expose her midriff. To my horror, she pressed against my mind again, sending thoughts and sensations that were too illicit to even mention aloud.

"Please, Mackenzie," she whispered, scooting toward me slightly. "I've been alone so long, so alone and lost. I'm cold, I'm always so cold." I stared, eyes wide, as she scooted close enough so that she could rest her head on my shoulder. Unable to move, frozen to the spot in a mixture of confusion and terror, I struggled to keep my breathing level. "I just - please."

I wasn't sure what she wanted until she sent the images to me in a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds. Before I knew it, I was falling back against the bed, the thin blanket a pillow underneath my head as her fingers trailed over me telekinetically. We were able to do minor things with our powers, both our telepathy and our telekinesis, but she'd never exhibited so much control and ability since my first outing with Essex.

But, when I opened my mouth to ask, she descended upon me, her dry lips brushing against mine. It felt so wrong, so intrusive and off, but I found myself helpless to fight against her. I breathed out a gasp as her tongue brushed against my lips, startling me.

_What are we doing?_ I demanded as I stilled under her, unable to do so much as push her away.

**Relieving a great deal of tension and boredom**, she responded airily as several sensations washed over my mind at once, causing me to tremble in response. **We might die tomorrow**. **Live every moment as though it counts**.

_And that means this?_ I managed shakily, surprised to find that I was kissing her back. It was different than kissing a man, far different. It was softer, silkier, and, to my surprise, not as awkward as I would have thought. _I love Hank_.

**And I love Scott; body, mind, and soul**, she responded mentally. I stared at her, blue eyes meeting green, and knew that she needed human contact. But, she wasn't looking for the right _sort_ of human contact. Jean wanted to be reminded that she was alive, that she was still breathing. **Aren't you curious?**

"About what?" I gasped, biting my lower lip as she trailed her tongue over my neck and up to my ear. "I'm not attracted to women, Jean."

**Neither am I, but I'm a telepath**.

_I don't understand_, I managed as she nipped at my neck, sending shivers racing down my spine.

**It doesn't matter when you're a telepath**, she assured me as her lips found mine again. They were soft, gentle, urging. **It's just us, we're alone. **

When she brushed my mind again, I was surprised to find myself staring up at Hank - Hank as he used to be. Gone was the fur, but his eyes were still the same fierce blue. I realized that she'd cast a mental cloak over herself, and for a moment I fought against it.

**It's just us**, she swore mentally as her lips, Hank's, brushed over mine again. I gasped as a large hand cupped my breast through my tank top and I became aware of the fact that she had more than telepathic involvement in mind. **Just us**.

Weakly, I found myself tumbling down a hill wherein there was no return. My thoughts were muddled, my body was alight with energy, and my head felt strange.

"It's just me and you, pet," Hank's voice assured me with a purr as his hands danced over my navel to slide under the hem of my sweats. "It's just us."

_Oh God_, I gasped as I arched up off of the mattress, losing myself to the illusion. _I love you, Hank. I love you so much_.

"Let me touch you," his voice whispered as his fingers danced over me, teasing and scraping with expert precision. In the back of my mind, I knew it was wrong. I knew it was wrong to even consider giving up hope and believing that I would never see him again in the flesh. But, part of me actually reveled in the sensations.

I actually _wanted_ it.

"Yes," I managed, voice a mere croak as I reached up and tangled my hands in his hair, firmly pulling him toward me. She lost her hold on the psychic illusion and the image of Hank fell away instantly, leaving my fingers tangled in dark red hair. "Jean," I whispered, arching up to meet her hand as she weaved a telepathic link between us that allowed all thoughts and emotions to feel as though they were being mutually shared.

**Just live**, she murmured in my mind as she tugged at the hem of my tank top. **Just live**.

And although I knew I would regret it later, I gave in.


	34. Chapter Thirty Three

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

"Strategic planning is worthless - unless there is first a strategic vision." _—_ John Naisbitt

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter Thirty-Three-<strong>_

"It's your turn today."

Weakly, I rolled off of the bed and hobbled over to the closed door, legs wobbly and head pounding. It swung open slowly, revealing two armed men carrying their ever-present cuffs and two trays of food.

The adrenaline kicked in quickly, but it wasn't enough.

I dove toward them with a howl, clawing and kicking as I tackled the first to the floor and slammed his head against the ground. The tray he'd been carrying clattered noisily, but I ignored it as I clawed at his face, his vest, his pockets. His partner grabbed at my arm and I reared back, slamming the back of my head into his chin.

"Fucking bitch!"

Rage built inside of me as a weapon was pressed into my side, courtesy of the man I had pinned to the floor. When I met his gaze, I saw nothing but fear in his eyes. Ruthlessly, I wrapped my fingers around his throat and wrestled the pistol free, curling my fingers around it and pointing it at the hand wrapped around his throat.

"Lead us out of here! Now!" I ordered as his partner tried to stumble to his feet.

A minute later, the second man was laid out on the floor, courtesy of a beautiful roundhouse delivered by none other than Jean Grey.

"I can't," he replied, finally realizing that he was, in layman's terms, completely screwed. The clock was ticking in my head and I knew we had less than thirty seconds before more men appeared - and we wouldn't have a chance then. "They'll kill me."

"I'll kill you!" I shouted, snarling as he reached up suddenly, trying to fight me off. I pulled the hammer back on the pistol and shoved it under his chin, pressing the barrel to his sweat-covered skin. "For once in your miserable existence, do the right thing."

I saw it then, a flash of humanity that I hadn't expected. His eyes, a warm chocolate color, softened slightly as he opened his mouth. But, he didn't have a chance to reply.

"I would have thought you'd learned your lesson by now, my dears."

The man's eyes dimmed suddenly and I felt a ripple of raw power brush against me. I looked up, incredulous, and found myself looking into the eyes of the Devil. The man that called himself Sinister stared back at me as I continued to straddle the dead man, determined to escape but terrified to move.

"He was a very good employee, Mackenzie. You know how much I hate wasting my employees - the good ones are so hard to find."

He thrust his hand forward and I sailed through the air weightlessly, slamming against the ceiling so sharply that my vision swam. I clung to the gun with one hand, my finger poised on the trigger despite the fact that my arms and legs were pinned to the ceiling. An instant later, I watched as he swatted Jean through the air as though she were a fly, sending her careening headfirst into the side of the small bed.

Sinister clucked his tongue and shook his head, as though disappointed. "Your resistance is completely futile, my friend. Surely you can see that after all of this time."

"Go screw yourself," I hissed, wincing as he tightened his telekinetic hold on me and my chest constricted. I knew I could only push him so far before he would inflict severe bodily harm, and I was already nearing that thin jagged line. "They're going to come for us. And I'm going to watch as you are torn down."

"Quite the optimist," he commented wryly as he stepped into the room to stand directly beneath me. Though it hurt my neck and my back to do so, I craned my neck in order to stare down at him. In turn, he leaned his head back and stared up at me with those dark lifeless eyes. "I am pleased to report that our last experiment has proven to be a success. As you can see, my control over my meager telekinesis has grown exponentially. You've quite a talent."

My mind inhaled the information and filed it away, but I lived in the moment. My body, which had previously felt battered and bruised and undeniably weak, felt invigorated as I fought his hold. It took a great deal of effort, but I managed to twist my arm in a painful angle and fire off six rounds at him in rapid succession. The first two caught him by surprise, the first piercing his shoulder and the second his abdomen, but he threw up a shield fast enough that the rest simply pinged off.

His hold on me disappeared and I dropped from the ceiling to land awkwardly on my feet. My knees knocked together as I brought my hands up, cupping the side of the gun with my left while my right tightened around the handle of the gun. "Don't make me kill you," I warned.

"Kill me?" he mocked as guards began to swarm in from behind him. "And how, pray tell, do you plan to accomplish that?"

The lights flickered and I glanced over his shoulder for a moment, pleased when the dim lights outside of our cell seemed to flicker in turn. It was working - but slowly.

I fired off more rounds, losing count as he backed into the crowd of guards, shielding only himself. There was no regret as two of his guards collapsed onto the ground, crimson blood spilling from their wounds. It took a moment for me to realize that the strange clicking noise signified that I was out of ammo.

"You've wounded me. Bravo, my love, bravo." He smiled mischievously, one hand pressed over the wound in his shoulder. The lights flickered again and I felt him press against my mental shields and quickly thrust outward, smirking in triumph when he staggered backwards and nearly collapsed. His face was still death-pale when his gaze met mine again, and his eyes had darkened considerably. "I see you still manage to surprise me at every turn, Mackenzie. I want this wing shut down!" he ordered, voice echoing in the cell of a room. "No sustenance for a few days; I'm sure that will bring you around to my way of seeing things."

As he backed away, two of his men dragged the body of the dead guard and helped the second unconscious man out. Another scooped up the fallen trays, as well as most of the smeared food, and backed away.

A mere moment later, like a bank vault shutting at the end of the day, the door was closed and sealed, trapping us once more.

The gun clattered to the floor as I staggered backwards, turning on my heel and limping toward the small narrow bed. Jean lay sprawled on the floor beside it, her red hair shielding her face from view. Her chest was rising and falling, but she was unresponsive as I crouched beside her and lifted her hair slightly, enough that I could press my fingertips to her neck.

"Pulse is steady," I commented to no one in particular. And, although I knew it would tax me out, I used my telekinesis to aid me in lifting her off of the floor and onto the bed. She rolled over onto her back and one hand draped across her stomach, her hair tangled around her face. "Pupils are responding normally," I announced to the room as I checked each eye, hoping that the small amount of light was good enough. "No obvious bumps, bruises, cuts, or abrasions - she should be fine."

"That's annoying, you know." She peeked one eye open warily and winced, bringing her hands up to rub at the crown of her head. "That was the worst plan yet."

I shrugged my shoulders as I sat down on the bed next to her, ignoring the fact that my body was covered in beads of sweat. I'd exerted myself and my body wanted to shut down, but I knew that if I allowed myself to fall asleep there was a chance I might not wake up in time. "We confirmed that an overload in the usage of our abilities, even his, can short out the power. And the power is connected to whatever sort of machinery or equipment he is using to keep our abilities at bay."

"Although I'd like to try, I'm fairly certain I can't short circuit the entire building by will alone."

"I think I have a plan," I murmured, leaning forward to rest my elbows upon my knees. She sat up and threw her legs over the side of the bed, scooting around until we were sitting side by side. As always, she was careful to ensure that we didn't actually touch, which I appreciated. "At least we've confirmed that they don't have audio coverage in here."

"But, just in case," she whispered, holding her hand out, palm up.

I eyed her hand for a moment before I jerked my chin up and met her gaze. There was nothing but fatigue in her eyes, which helped ease a little bit of the worry and distress that I carried between my shoulder blades. We'd never discussed what had happened between the two of us, and I got the feeling that I wasn't the only one that wanted to bury the memory so deep that even Xavier couldn't find it.

Slowly, I placed my hand over hers, ignoring the clammy feeling. Gazes still locked, I slipped onto the astral plane with her, amazed at how easy the transition had become for the two of us in such a short period of time. We'd always had such a hard time working together in our younger days.

The astral plane was a place wherein we could embark telepathically, a place where our bodies were merely vessels and our minds were the source of our greatest power. She was dressed, as per usual, in a white and green X-Men style uniform that had the figure of a black phoenix emblazoned upon the chest. When I'd asked, she'd told me that after Alkali Lake, she'd started to see life differently and had realized that she'd been given a chance - she'd risen from the ashes like the mystical phoenix.

I glanced down at myself as my surroundings shifted slightly, the empty galaxy shifting to look like a very posh and spacious lounge room. Unlike Jean, I was dressed in blue - a tight-fitting corset style shirt that fit tightly and perfectly matched the blue leather pants and knee-high boots. Our choice of clothing always confused me, as I thought I looked rather ridiculous, but, in the end, it didn't seem to matter.

**The plan worked a lot better than I thought it would**. Her lips didn't move, but Jean's voice echoed across the lounge loudly as she dropped down onto a white sofa that was crowded by over-stuffed pillows. **We can hurt him**.

_It wasn't enough though_, I reminded her as I dropped down onto the couch beside her, actually feeling the cushion give beneath me. It never failed to amaze me how realistic anything we created on the astral plane could actually seem. _He was hardly even phased. I think he let me do it_.

**We're still just experiments to him. He'll let us push the boundaries, but he won't let us out of the cage until he's ready**. Her eyes darkened slightly and I knew that we were on the same page: he would never release us. **What do you think?**

She turned on the couch slightly and stretched out her legs, her heeled foot brushing against my knee. Her eyes widened at the contact and for a fraction of a second, there was heat in her gaze. It faded almost as quickly, and I found myself wondering if I'd imagined it altogether.

_Whoever gets pulled out next is going to be the decoy_, I explained slowly, licking my lips thoughtfully. _The other is going to play sick or injured and continue resting. We'll have the link formed up before hand, but it can't be just any link._

**I've never had a link like that with anyone except Scott**.

It went without saying that we'd crossed a number of boundaries that made our relationship with one another a lot more than just friendship.

_There's no other choice, Jean. We've tried everything and failed. How long has it been?_

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she sighed, the movements and the sound appearing to be so real. **I've been here for so long that I don't even remember. But, you've been here for almost nine weeks. Nine weeks tomorrow, in fact**.

Shock rocked through me and I pushed it down, unwilling and unable to focus on the fact that it had been over two months since I'd seen Hank. What was more, however, was the fact that I didn't even know if any of my friends, my family, was alive. For all I knew, the rest of the world could have been destroyed in some sort of apocalyptic battle that we'd never even known existed.

**I'd given up hope by the time they brought you in**. Her admission wasn't all that surprising, but it still gave me a bit more insight to the woman she'd become. After all, she wasn't quite the shy and timid girl I'd once known. **You made me see that there's still hope, Mackenzie, there's still hope that we'll get out of here. We're going to fight our way out of here. And I've come to accept that if I die trying to escape, it will be more than worth it.**

_We're not going to die_, I promised her, wanting to believe it myself. _I don't like this any better than you do, Jean, but we have to do it._

She closed her eyes and reached over, clasping her hands around mine. It was for show only, as our physical bodies were already connected and therefore our mental connection to one another was already strengthened. Her thoughts and memories washed over me, and I did my best to wade through them as gently as possible.

**I'm sorry**, she whispered in my mind as we were jerked from the astral plane.

I gasped for air as my eyes fluttered open, revealing the sight of the small cell of a room that we'd shared for, she claimed, nearly nine weeks. Her hand was, once again, clammy against mine, causing me to pull away slowly.

"We should probably get some sleep," she muttered as she crawled over on the bed, facing the wall. Her back to me, she dragged up the thin blanket and draped it over herself, nearly hiding her entire body, including her head, from view.

I waited a beat before I shifted around and crawled under the blanket with her. Making a point out of putting my back to hers, I tugged the blanket around me and shivered, wishing that the temperature in the room was just a few degrees warmer. It wasn't cool enough to be considered arctic, but it was cool enough to be considered uncomfortably cold unless we were moving - and we didn't have the caloric intake to be moving about - at all.

Her thoughts flickered through the psychic link and I winced at the vibrancy in them. It almost felt as though I were experiencing them myself for a split second. A moment later, the connection dulled to a gentle roar and I closed my eyes, allowing myself to be dragged under almost instantly.


	35. Chapter Thirty Four

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

_"In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit."_ _—_ Albert Schweitzer

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter Thirty-Four-<strong>_

"What was it like?"

I glanced down at the cards in my hands and then up at the woman across from me. It had been twelve long weeks since I'd woken up in a small cell with a woman I'd believed to be dead. Jean Grey had once been my peer during our teen years, and had later been an distrusting friend and sometimes rival. Eventually, we'd drifted apart, too different and yet too alike to get along properly.

Now, however, she was my only hope.

We sat crossed-legged on the small bed, her at the head of it and me at the foot. It wasn't the most comfortable position, but the floor was too cool and we were both too weak to even crawl out of bed properly. The guards, despite our constant threats (and even our promises of sexual repayment), tended to ignore us. But, the day before, one had taken pity and given Jean an old deck of cards.

The only game we both knew and enjoyed was gin rummy. I was up eighty-nine games to thirty-four. The cards were worn and often stuck together, but it at least provided us a way, no matter how annoying and boring it was, to pass the time.

"What was what like?" I repeated softly, laying down a set of three fives.

She frowned at the card I dumped in the pile and drew one from the deck. "What was it like with Hank?"

I glanced up at her and cocked my head to the side slightly. The week before, we'd been dragged out of the small room and sprayed down with a firehouse, which wasn't all that pleasant, and our hair had been sheared off to the point that it only curled over our ears. They'd waited until we were too weak from lack of food to fight back at all, until we were completely vulnerable.

It wouldn't happen again.

"That's a little personal," I finally replied, shaking my head as she put down a run of five spades. "And I was waiting on that four!"

"Come on, Mac," she shook her head. She'd taken to calling me Mac recently, but she still didn't like any of the nicknames I'd come up with for her. Apparently Red reminded her too much of Scott. "It's just us."

I rolled my eyes in return as I picked up the card she'd discarded and laid down a two of diamonds. "A lot of people think that he's a beast because of the way he looks," I murmured, well aware of the fact that she knew of my history with Hank because of our psychic link, just as I knew of her entire history with Scott. "That night in DC when he first touched me . . ."

"He was always so shy back in the day," she added, sighing. Jean shifted slightly on the bed, folding her legs a little tighter under herself. "I always thought he had a bit of a crush on Emma, but I could never be sure. But, looking back, I realize that I didn't even see the signs of him crooning over you. Kind of sweet, isn't it?"

"It is, and so is he." I sighed heavily at the mere thought of him and her thoughts were warm and sympathetic through the link. "Emma's partly to thank for me urging Hank to take me to bed, so I can't hate the woman completely."

"Sinister kept talking about how he would soon have a complete set; how he would soon have both Emma Frost and Mackenzie Benton under his thumb. To be frank, I'm damn glad that Emma isn't here instead of you, or _with_ you."

"We'd have already murdered one another," I decided, nodding in agreement. "I guess this is as good a time as any to apologize for how we acted when we were younger. I can't apologize for her, but I can for me because -"

"It's okay," she interrupted, shaking her head as the game continued. "Things were still really hard for me back then, and I was, I'll admit, more than a little jealous of the two of you. In our private sessions, the Professor always claimed that I had so much raw power. But, he'd put in mental blocks to ensure that I wasn't overwhelmed as a child. They broke that night on Liberty Island."

Intrigued, I picked up a row of five from the pile and laid down three sets of runs and discarded an ace. "He said you were more powerful afterwards, that he'd never seen you exhibit anything as skilled after Alkali Lake."

Her eyes glistened slightly as she fed off of the memories and emotions through our psychic link. While each of us could, potentially, shut the other off, we often chose not to. We were each others companion, confidante - only source of sanity.

"I've thought of that day thousands of times since," she admitted, her voice no more than a breath of a whisper. "I think back and I change the outcome every single time. I would have done things differently, knowing what I know now."

"Knowing that you wouldn't have died."

Her bright green eyes darkened to the color of the angry Atlantic. "This is worse than any death could ever be."

Because she was right, I continued playing gin as though it actually helped busy my mind. The truth of the matter was that it did not, and it only gave me short bursts wherein my thoughts weren't completely overwhelming. I knew she felt the same, and we often did our best to not speak of our fears and doubts - as it only made things worse.

"I wish, even now, that I'd had your reflexes, your confidence."

Surprised at the admission, I studied her face for a long moment. Her skin was a little sallow and her cheeks a bit more hollow than they had been, but she still looked young and, somehow, fresh. But, there was a darkness to her features, a sort of glimmer of pain, that only those that experience true hell could ever understand.

"I know, looking back, that you would have remained calm. You would have instructed everyone to remain quiet while you worked your magic from the safety of your seat." Jean paused, smiling sadly. "I wish I'd had that strength - I wouldn't be here now."

"You give me too much credit," I assured her, shaking my head. It felt strange not feeling my hair brushing my shoulders and, for just a moment, I wanted to reach up and run my fingers through it. Knowing that it would bring only further humiliation and anger, I managed to fight back the urge. "There is no way to know how I would have reacted to the same situation, Jean, and you know it. I know you wish that you could go back in time and change the outcome, change your choices, but you can't."

"Don't you try to give me that _things happen for a reason_ spiel."

"As if." I snorted as she went out, effectively ending the game. I was still up eighty-nine to thirty-five, but she seemed determined to somehow catch up and overcome. "What I am saying is that no one, especially me - no, wait." I held up a hand when she rolled her eyes and began to shuffle the cards. "I'll admit, I did think that you'd made yourself out to be a martyr. But, I like to think that I know you better than that _now_."

"I think I had a death wish."

The admission stunned me to the point where I simply stared at her as she continued to shuffle the deck of cards in her hands. After a beat, she placed the small stack of cards on the bed between us, folding her hands together in her lap.

"Scott and I were having trouble. It revolved around Logan, but he wasn't the main reason. About a year before Logan showed up, Emma came around for a few weeks. I was out and about a lot, working with Hank and speaking at conferences and the like." She paused for a moment before glancing down, her short bangs falling over her forehead. "She and I never got along well, as you know. But, after a few weeks, she left. I'm such a fool, Mackenzie. It took me almost a month to realize that they'd had a psychic affair, no matter how brief."

"You're kidding me," I whispered, thinking back to how awkward Scott had acted around the woman in the most mundane of settings. "No way - not prim and perfect Scott."

Jean nodded her head jerkily, still staring down at her hands. "I believed him when he said that, at first, he hadn't realized what had happened. It was during his dreams - she would eavesdrop and manipulate them." When she paused, my gut clenched and I forced back my own thoughts regarding such manipulation. Neither of us wanted to discuss such things together. "But, I was gone a lot and, at first, he didn't consider it cheating. He thought of it as realistic dreams and the like. He admitted that he nearly crossed the line the night before she left; apparently, she crawled into bed with him while he was sleeping and . . ."

"She's such a bitch," I murmured, not at all ashamed by my use of language. "Did he tell you about it, or did you find out?"

"I knew something was off, so I asked him if everything was okay. He was withdrawn from me for almost a week before he broke down one night and told me everything. I was hurt and angry, so angry." She balled her fists and the bed trembled slightly. Warily, I reached over and rested one hand over hers, squeezing gently.

_Save the rage_, I reminded her softly, waiting until the electricity in the air had faded before I cleared my throat. "I imagine it strained things."

"That's putting it mildly," she agreed, shaking her head. "As you know, we kept pushing back our wedding date. At first, it was because we were both so busy, so stressed out. The last time, however, I pushed it back. Because I wasn't so sure anymore," she whispered the last part, nearly choking on the words. "We were working on things because, let's be honest, I've never loved another man and we were good together. We just had some trust issues. And then," she breathed out, glancing up hesitantly. "Logan came."

I thought of the rugged man that had a tendency to be gruff with his words and act fast and ask questions later. I fed what I knew of him and Rogue through our rapport and she blinked, surprised.

"I knew that she had a crush on him, but I never would have thought -" she cut off sharply, shaking her head. "I'm happy for him, for both of them. We both knew that I would never return his attention in the way he wanted. That all it was - lust."

"He is an attractive man," I added, searching her face for answers.

"Yes," she agreed, bobbing her head once. "Scott was always quite shy, and wasn't prone to showing much affection in public. He was never very bold about romance, which is why I wasn't aware of his feelings toward me until long after they'd developed. But Logan - he was rather bold and it flustered me."

"You were attracted to him."

"God help me, I was." She released a sigh of a breath and rocked back slightly, resting her elbows upon her knees. "He was rough and rugged and nothing like any of the men I'd ever dated or, well, _been_ with. He was aggressive, but I kept politely shrugging him off. Yes, he turned me on," Jean quipped before I could even voice the question. "That night, the night before we got to the base, I was worried about Scott. I was stressed out because it was _my fault_ that the Blackbird had been damaged. In fact, if it wasn't for Magneto, we would have perished."

"My thoughts were scattered and I couldn't sleep, so I was working on the jet. And you know me, I don't know as much about mechanics and computer systems as I'd like, but I knew enough to understand how the diagnostic scans worked. Logan - he took me by surprise. He more or less insinuated that if I was interested, he'd do his damndest to change his ways." Her eyes lit up slightly and I lived through the memory, in her place, in the space of a heartbeat. "I've never been kissed like that, Mackenzie. So recklessly, so hungrily. There was nothing but heat between us, but I considered giving in. That scared me. But, I pushed him away, ensuring him that I loved Scott and would always choose him."

I followed her gaze as she twisted the classic diamond solitaire on her finger. Her engagement ring was the only personal effect either of us had, the only real thing that tied us to the outside world. She seemed a little lost, a little confused, as she stared at the sparkling diamond.

"When I found Scott at the Base, he wasn't in his right mind. I couldn't reach him telepathically, even through our rapport. He attacked me and I didn't put up much of a fight because I felt - well guilty. We didn't have a chance to talk, to even say hello after he was back to being himself. We had to rush out of the facility and then - then I just kept thinking of all of those kids. I kept thinking of the students and my friends: my family. My leg was hurt and I remember feeling like I had a purpose, a real purpose, for the first time in a very long time."

"You hurt them," I murmured, frowning at her helpless expression. "You hurt them a lot."

"Which I never meant to do! I - I thought that by saying goodbye through the Professor that I would save them, and myself, a lot of unnecessary pain. Deep down, I knew it was suicidal. Part of me relished the adrenaline, the fear and the pain. I think part of me _wanted_ to die. Which is extreme considering all I did was kiss a man when Scott actually groped another woman."

"So, you're telling me -"

"That I think part of me felt guilty enough that it felt like dying was taking the easy way out."

"That's not only stupid, but selfish and ignorant."

She lifted an arched brow at that and smiled, though wanly. "I couldn't agree more. I just wish that I'd had five more minutes, five more precious minutes to get my head on straight. I wouldn't be here right now, that's for certain."

"I just wish you would have stayed on the jet."

"Touché."

"Jean?"

She ran her fingers through her incredibly short locks, her dark jade eyes focused on my face. After a moment's hesitation, she cocked her head to the side. "Yes?"

"When we get out of here, not _if_, I'm going to ask Hank to marry me." It was something I'd been thinking about for a while and I'd come to realize that I loved him more than I could ever hope to express. "I know, it's a little backwards. I don't care. As soon as I get out of here, the first thing I want, other than an all-you-can-eat buffet, is Hank. They're right when they say you don't know what you've got until it's gone." I pressed a hand flat against my chest, hating the way I _ached_ simply thinking of all that I'd been forced to leave behind. "I am going to marry him, whether he likes it or not. And Jean?"

"Yes?"

"I want you to be my Maid of Honor. I know," I lifted a hand to stop her from protesting. "We haven't gotten along, ever really. But, I'd like to think that when we walk out of here that we'll be as close as two friends can be."

For a moment, that awkward tenseness filled the air and her eyes darkened. I felt her thoughts on the matter through the rapport and did my best to keep a straight face. The truth of the matter was that Jean Grey knew me like no other woman ever could, ever would. It was still awkward, for both of us, but it was something we'd have to accept and move on from.

She licked her lips and nodded. "I'd be honored."

I sighed, relieved that she hadn't completely brushed me off. Though I'd never before pictured a wedding that involved Jean Grey (my former arch-nemesis), I suddenly couldn't even think of a world without her in it. "Good. I'm going to make you wear orange though. Bride's duty to make her Maid of Honor look terrible."

She threw her head back and laughed and I joined her, surprised that I had the capacity to do more than smile. It felt strange, really, to feel so light and warm inside despite the constant terror and horror that we experienced. Hesitantly, I glanced over my shoulder at the door, not all that surprised to find that we were still alone.

"If, I mean _when_, we get out of here," she corrected herself when I whipped my head around and glared at her. "When we get out of here, I want to go to the spa for a few days and be pampered. I want to smell my mother's cologne and chastise my dad about smoking his pipe. I want Scott to hold me, to pull me close and simply hold me."

_Not much longer_, I promised her through our rapport, grimacing at the way a few tears flowed freely from her eyes. _You and I both know that it won't be long before he drags one of us out. And we'll be ready, Jean. We'll be ready_.

Her eyes darkened and the tears slowed, stopped. **Yes. I - I don't know if I'm -**

_Stop it_, I cut her off before she could finish her line of thought. Jean's doubts and fears had already trickled through the link and I knew, without a doubt, that she had little faith in herself. Although she longed for freedom, she was already nearly resolved to fade away in the little cell that was our current home away from home. _You have to believe, Jean. If you don't, we won't stand a chance_.

I knew that there were guards somewhere watching us in a little room. We knew for a fact that there were at least two cameras in the room, but we hadn't located more. As far as we'd been able to lift from the minds and thoughts of the guards, there wasn't any audio feed to speak of, but we still often relied on our telepathy to keep our thoughts and plans as secretive as possible.

She sighed heavily as she wiggled about, crawling forward and curling up in a ball on the bed, her head in my lap. It was unexpected and I merely stared down at her as she curled up, eyes closed. "I don't think I would have made it this far without you."

I thought about reminding her of all that she'd endured before I'd shown up, but thought better of it. Hesitantly, I lifted my right hand and dragged my fingers through her short locks. They were tangled and slightly greasy, more from lack of shampoo and washing than anything else. But, her hair was still surprisingly soft.

_It's going to be okay_, I assured her, closing my eyes. _We're going to get out of here. It's all going to be okay, I promise_.

She was quiet for several minutes, her chest rising and falling gently. When she brushed against my thoughts through the rapport, her touch was gentle and soothing. **Okay**, she finally responded, sighing heavily.

Jean shifted around slightly and I stiffened, fearing for a moment that she was attempting to push us down the same cliff into yet another mistake. She tensed and turned her head slightly and looked up at me, lips slightly parted.

"I should be ashamed to admit that I want to kiss you right now," she whispered, licking her lower lip at the same time. "Oddly enough, I'm not. Maybe I took a page out of Emma's book after all."

I laughed it off, shaking my head as she settled back down, one arm curled around my leg as though it were a pillow. As she drifted off to sleep, I continued to pet her hair, distracted. I found myself wondering if Hank would understand, if he'd still look at me the same way. I wondered if there would always be an undercurrent of awkwardness between Jean and I, if I would always think of the night we'd spent together with a mixture of confusion and intrigue.

More importantly, as I watched her sleep, I found myself wondering why, when she'd looked up at me, I hadn't minded the thought of her kissing me.


	36. Chapter Thirty Five

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

"_Age wrinkles the body. Quitting wrinkles the soul."_ _—_ Douglas MacArthur

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter Thirty-Five-<strong>_

"Eleven weeks," she muttered, shifting on the bed slightly. "I'd lost count before they tossed you in here."

It wasn't a very comforting thought, and I pledged to never lose count of how many days I spent in captivity. Weak and lethargic, I rolled over onto my side and stared blankly at the door, willing it to open and for the X-Men to swoop in and save the day. Nothing happened.

"Maybe they forgot about us."

I shook my head sleepily, blinking so that I wouldn't fall asleep. "No, they haven't forgotten about us. It's a ploy, Jean. It's a ploy to weaken us so that we feel indebted to them when they finally decide to feed us. They're trying to get us to form a bond with our captors."

"Stockholm Syndrome," she replied airily.

She lay facing me, her back against the wall. It should have been uncomfortable and intrusive for her to shift so that she could lay her head on top of mine, but I didn't have the strength to complain. In fact, I didn't have the strength to do much of anything.

"How many days?"

"Five without food, two without water," she whispered, her voice croaky. "The hard dinner rolls we had stashed are gone, and the faucet's not running anymore."

I closed my eyes and sighed, nearly giving in to my body's urge to sleep, to hibernate. I knew, from a medical standpoint, that we were severely malnourished and dehydrated, and that if we didn't get fluids in us soon that our bodies would go into shock and, eventually, shut down.

"He's teasing us, pushing us. He's going to push us until the breaking point, and then he's going to reel us back in, pamper us." I wasn't one hundred percent positive, but I had a fairly good inkling that he'd do as I suspected. He didn't want us dead, which meant that, assuming we weren't the last people on earth, we'd be taken out soon. "I'll take this watch."

She didn't even bother to respond as her breathing evened out, signifying that she'd almost instantly nodded off. In order to keep myself awake, I stared at the door, going over medical terms in my head.

_Xerophthalmia_, I thought to myself, blinking tiredly. _Dry eyes - Greek in origin - when the eyes fail to produce tears. Can be caused by a lack of Vitamin A, which can be a symptom of a Malnourished patient._

_Laryngospasm_, I blinked, licking my dry and chapped lips. _An involuntary spasm of the laryngeal cords. Typically characterized by Stridor_.

I closed my eyes for a moment, and when I opened them again, the door was opening.

_Jean!_ I practically shouted through our rapport, causing her to literally jump. _Get ready and stay calm. Remember, whoever remains here must shield themselves until the power is out._

**Okay**, she responded, stiffening against me as five armed men poured into the room.

Two ambled forward, one with his M16 at the ready, and simply glared at us. While one pointed his gun at us, the other reached over me and grabbed Jean by her elbow. She, to her credit, merely released a sharp gasp as she was dragged over me and off of the bed and onto her unstable feet. She swayed and sagged between the two of them as they dragged her toward the door.

I had to fight down the urge to try to help, knowing that I was too weak and my powers were too restrained to do anything more than cause us both more harm. Closing my eyes, I settled against the bed and tried to look as though I was sleeping. But, in reality, I'd slipped onto the astral plane.

_I'm here with you, Jean_, I assured her as I prepared myself, the mental link between us strengthening a hundred-fold. I saw through her eyes, felt everything she felt; I had her senses.

We were led through a maze of corridors, our feet dragging. The soldiers yelled at us whenever we slowed down too much but, to our surprise, they refrained from physically harming us.

"Ah, Dr. Grey," a familiar voice purred, causing our skin to prickle in terror.

We were escorted into one of the laboratories, the very same one that we'd spent countless hours already. A table was already prepared and despite our feeble attempts to break free of their grasp, we were thrown atop it and strapped down.

His pale face came into view and we stared up into the dark abyss that was his gaze, struggling to keep our breathing as regulated as possible. "I have to say, my darling, these short locks are certainly unbecoming."

When he runs his eerily cold fingers through our short locks, we shudder. We strain against the straps that bind us, knowing that it is pointless. The overhead lights are bright and reveal the high tech room in all of its horror and glory, highlighting the strange computers in one corner and the large portion of the wall that is covered by a dry-erase board; the board displayed several horrifying images of the human body, different drawings of the brain and what appeared to be chemical formulas.

"Fuck you," we managed, gasping as he brought his cold hands down around our throat. We stared up at him in terror, gasping for breath as his fingers tightened ever so slightly. "And the horse you rode in on," we added, groaning as his fingers tightened a bit more, enough to simply warn us that he was capable of so much more.

"Such language is quite unbecoming of a lady, don't you think?" He clucked his tongue as he slowly retracted his hand and bustled around the lab, leaving us to glance around hurriedly. We couldn't see much other than the closed door and the fact that we were alone with him for the moment. "I'm sure you and Dr. Benton have both noticed that food and water have been, how should I say - cut off for the moment."

He whistled a jaunty tune as he ambled around the lab, swinging on a white lab coat over his dark gray turtleneck and his black slacks. Had it not been for his terribly inhuman features, he might have looked almost _normal_ in the casual clothing.

"You see, my investigations are going quite well. I am pleased to announce that I've managed to splice bits of your DNA, along with Dr. Benton's, to my own. My telepathy has strengthened slightly and my telekinesis has improved. I'm hoping to use the same process with other samples I've acquired over the years." He walked over with a clipboard in his hands and scribbled on it, face blank. "In approximately five years, I'll be able to use this same process in order to alter the genes of a human being at the embryo stage. Imagine it, dearest: genetically engineered mutants."

We groaned as he used his TK to level a tray filled with tools to the side of us, so that we could see them glinting under the bright florescent lighting. There were scalpels and saws and small knives with jagged teeth.

It was a torture tray.

_Wait for it_, I warned her, pulling back slightly so that I was watching over her instead. After I'd pulled back, I ensured that the cell I occupied was empty to ensure that our plan would work. _Keep calm, Jean. You can do this_.

**I'm so tired**, she admitted and I watched, wincing as Sinister lifted a scalpel. **Shields are failing**.

Without prompting, I reached in gently through the rapport, strengthening her shields myself. It was taxing, but well worth the effort when Sinister's face remained blank and calm. I knew that his telepathy was nowhere on the level of Xavier's but was, perhaps, more on the level with Emma's - between my level and Jean's, in essence. He wasn't overly powerful, but if we weren't careful he could discover our plans and ruin them. After all, while Jean's powers weren't as limited outside of the cell, they were still nowhere on the level of Essex's.

**When**?

I watched as he lowered the scalpel to her neck, his eyes dark and bottomless. Though I did not know what he intended to do, I knew it would be painful. He'd administered no narcotics - which meant that she, and therefore I, would feel every bit of pain.

_Now_!

She formed the psi bolt and I fed her the power necessary to deliver it. His face paled dramatically as the lights flickered and I smiled inwardly as he stumbled backwards, the scalpel falling from his hands.

_More!_ I demanded, feeding her more energy as she lashed out with her TK, sending the tray and even Essex flying across the room. The lights flickered again, dimming dramatically, and her energy level dimmed. I pushed harder and watched, elated as Sinister came back into view, face a mask of confusion.

**He knows. He knows!**

_Hit him hard!_ I hissed, growling mentally in satisfaction as she lashed out with a psi bolt that seemed to sizzle in the air. It struck him and his eyes fluttered closed instantly as he slumped forward, falling across her legs. The next moment, the lights flickered out, leaving the room completely dark.

I pulled back from the mental rapport enough so that I could only sense her in the back of my head. _Call for the Professor_, I urged her as I slid off of the bed boneless. The room was completely dark, but I knew it like the back of my head. Gathering my small reserves of strength, I stumbled toward the door, jaw set and muscles tensed.

My head throbbed as I lashed out with my TK, hitting the door with such a great force that it dented in the center. I wobbled to the side slightly as I hit it again, creating a hole dead center large enough to fit several people at once. Although I heard shouting and gunfire, I climbed through it slowly, throwing up a hand and creating a telekinetic shield around myself that caused the bullets to ricochet - leaving my enemies diving for cover.

**He's coming to**, Jean warned, sounding exhausted. **He's fighting me**.

The back-up generator must have kicked on, as emergency lights flickered on, illuminating the halls well enough for me to navigate. Armed men pounced at me around every turn, but I batted them away uselessly. I cut myself off from the rest of the world, focusing only on Jean and myself, as I cut a path through the corridors to where she was held. It took no more than two minutes but, along the way, I knew I'd taken the lives of dozens by simple carelessness alone.

_Shield yourself_, I warned as I approached the closed double doors that were labeled as a laboratory. I threw my hands forward, groaning as my TK ripped through the doors and tore away bits of concrete and metal, leaving nothing but a gaping hole where wall and door had once been. Dust settled in the air as I stalked forward, the thin ballet flats doing little to protect my feet from the plaster and other bits of debris. _I'm coming_.

**Hurry**, she urged me as I struggled to see through the dusty haze that the destruction had caused.

I spied Sinister's prone form immediately and wasted no time in lifting him off of Jean's body and throwing him across the room. The doctor in me was ashamed that I had no care left in me for him, as his head slammed into the wall and he did not move. I could have taken the time to check his pulse, to ensure that he was alive - but I did not care.

"Jean!"

She was sobbing, dry and tearless sobs that racked her body as I hurried forward, stumbling over an overturned chair. Although she was covered in dust, she appeared uninjured, and I hastily tore the straps away and pulled her into a sitting position. Her eyes were bloodshot and full of pain, but she managed to slide off of the table onto her feet.

The overhead lighting was still dim and my powers were nearly at full, though severely weakened, still, by lack of energy. I knew we had to escape quickly, or they'd manage to get their hands on us.

Weakly, I slid my arm around her, looping hers around my shoulder so that I could bear some of her weight. We hobbled out of the room together and made it all of twenty feet before a group of ten to twelve armed men stopped us, M16s raised at the ready.

"Stop!"

Frustrated and annoyed, I grunted and shoved my right hand forward, sweeping the lot of them off of their feet and halfway down the hall. When we reached a T in the hallway, I realized that I had no idea how we were going to get out.

_We're going to have to make our own exit_, I told her through the rapport. _After this, we're home free_. It was a promise, one I wasn't sure I would be able to actually keep.

She lent me some of her energy and I focused, grunting as I thrust forth mentally with my TK, slamming against the wall and creating a gaping hole that tore through the eight foot thick wall and led outside. Hot and humid air filtered in immediately, shocking me even more than the bright sunlight.

We staggered outside together, stunned by the feel of the warm sunlight. The alarms were raised and we heard the sirens echoing across the land, but we paid them no mind. My shield protected us from the slew of gunfire and we continued onward, wandering across the obvious military base in confusion.

The building we'd exited looked partially abandoned from the outside, which was rather surprising considering how well-kept and busy it had seemed on the inside. Vehicles carrying confused soldiers whirled past us and I slapped them away like insects, annoyed at the thought of having to fight our way out.

No more than twenty minutes had passed since she had exited the cell and the whole charade had began. And yet, it felt as though hours had passed as we made our way across the base. Though there was no real challenge, I found myself pausing at the large barbed wire fence that was clearly meant to keep unwanted persons out and the US military in.

**Tear it down**, she murmured through the rapport, leaning heavily against me. **Tear the son of a bitch down.**

Without further prompting, I hissed and tore straight through the fence. The force was enough to make the ground tremble and caused a whole section of the heavy fence to lean forward, close to complete collapse.

Hummers trailed after us and gunfire continued before, rather abruptly, it stopped. We were in the desert, somewhere, and the air was hot and humid and the sand and dirt was hot beneath the thin shoes that adorned my feet. Other than the large and domineering base, I saw nothing on the horizon.

We stumbled forward another hundred yards before my knees knocked together and I fell forward onto the hard unforgiving sand. It was too hard to believe, too hard to really conceive, that we were somehow free.

And then, as Jean fell forward beside me, a warm and familiar touch brushed against my mind.

**Mackenzie**.

I smiled as the air around us grew choppy; cacti swayed and bits of sand and rocks flew through the air haphazardly due to the current created by the high-tech Blackbird that was lowered inch by inch toward the ground.

We were saved.


	37. Chapter Thirty Six

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

"_A women under stress is not immediately concerned with finding solutions to her problems but rather seeks relief by expressing herself and being understood."_ _—_ John Gray

_**-Chapter Thirty-Six-**_

It wasn't as easy as I had hoped it would be, for certain. My ears were ringing and it took me a moment to realize we were still being pursued from behind. When I glanced over my shoulder, I was alarmed at the sight of three open-air Jeeps toting around dozens of armed men.

"A helicopter?" I whispered, blinking blearily at the bright skyline as two helicopters moved in swiftly. They would be upon us in just moments. "Jean, we have to hurry. I want you to make a run for it."

She staggered to her feet unsteadily, lacking grace as she jerked me to mine. I groaned as my body was forced into a standing position; I was tired, dehydrated and sore – I wanted nothing more than to sleep for at least a few days straight. "They're lowering the ramp, Mac. They're here."

I followed her gaze and watched as a large group bounded down the ramp, dressed, for the most part, in civilian clothing. Tears gathered in my eyes and emotion caught in my throat as a very familiar-looking blue-furred man raced down the ramp towards me.

Something surprisingly hot pierced my shoulder from behind and I gasped, confused as I staggered to the side and slammed against Jean. She managed to keep me upright even as the vertigo took me by surprise, tilting the world upside down.

**They're firing at us**, Jean explained as I struggled to erect a shield around us. **Oh, Ororo**, she whispered through our link, causing me to glance up in confusion as the rain started to fall. It was cold and felt like thousands of tiny needles hitting me at once, but it made me feel so alive.

Jean pulled away from me, leaving me wobbling on my own two feet as she rushed toward the rear of the jet. I watched her as she ran the three hundred or so yards, smiling slightly. My ears rang and I felt a brush of heat and air near my neck and erected a shield around myself, praying that it would hold up.

"You are on the property of the United States Military!" a jagged voice announced over a speaker system – one that probably came from the helicopter that hovered overhead. "Put down your weapons and get face down on the ground or severe measures will be taken."

_Severe measures_? I thought to myself, spinning on my heel to watch as armed men piled out of their vehicles to race toward me. _Shooting at me isn't extreme_? I went to lift my arm to help me direct my focus and howled in pain as I realized, rather shockingly, that I'd been hit in the shoulder from behind.

The rage that I felt toward Sinister, toward the helplessness that had left me prisoner and weak for so long, seemed to course through me. I forgot about the X-Men, I forgot about Hank, and I simply seethed.

My hands trembled as more bullets pierced the air, ricocheting off of my shield uselessly. I struck out, shoving my left hand forward and sending one of the large Humvees sailing upwards at least twenty feet into the air. There were shouts of surprise and horror as it hit the ground and exploded, sending pieces of metal and rubber and glass flying.

"Mackenzie!"

I growled as a large helicopter took fire, the large rounds of its M60 machine gun striking the ground just in front of me. I glared at an empty Jeep and watched, practically smirking as it was heaved through the air and struck the side of the helicopter. It weaved and darted as smoke and fire billowed from its rotors – an instant later, the tail seemed to come apart from the rest of it and the helicopter lost altitude quickly as it spun in sharp circles.

"Mackenzie!"

I felt their fear, their doubts and their determination – it fed me energy, fed me with the anger needed to continue fighting. I heard their mental screams of agony as I struck out, swatting them to the side and striking large groups at a time with psi bolts powerful enough to render them unconscious. I did not kill them – they were not worth the agony I would live with.

**Mackenzie**. Her voice was warm, soothing, as it echoed through our rapport. I fed on her sorrow and despair, basked in her doubts and her fear. **Stop**. The order was short and to the point and I realized, a moment too late, that the rain had picked up, bringing along with it a terrible wind that felt more like tornado-force winds than a breeze.

Dirt and rocks and pits of weedy grass swirled around me like a cyclonic shield. I realized that I'd summoned it around me without thought and that part of me enjoyed knowing that I was protected from any source of harm.

The armed men, the soldiers, retreated without warning. I watched after them, my shoulder stinging and my head spinning, and threw their injured at them thoughtlessly. Prone bodies, breathing but just barely in some cases, sailed through the air to slam into fencing, other soldiers, and even empty vehicles.

The rain pelted against me and I watched, bemused, as the sky darkened. Gone was the high afternoon sun, leaving in its place a gray and cloudy day. It was the kind of weather that made one think of a storm, of a possible tornado in the near future.

I felt a tingling in the back of my head and spun around slightly, lips parting in a smile as I realized that Hank was standing mere feet away from me. The swirling cyclone of dirt and debris stilled and the gravel and such fell and landed on the ground with a resounding _thud_.

"Mackenzie."

My lips trembled as I slipped forward, tripping over unseen objects as I fell into his awaiting arms. His mouth opened and closed several times and I sensed that he was speaking, that he was pouring out his very heart and soul – but I heard nothing. I clung to him, buried myself against the dark polo shirt he wore and clawed at his collar. It was a dream, a mirage – it was perfect.

The cacophony of noise died away slowly and I was left confused as I heard screams and howls, only to realized that _I_ was the one making all of the noise. I clenched my jaw and shuddered from head to toe, confused and a tiny bit humiliated at how exposed and vulnerable I felt at that very moment.

"I cannot believe you are alive. I was at your funeral, pet. I watched them lower an empty casket into the ground."

I was jerked away from him and my head spun and my shoulder exploded in pain as I was pulled into a throng of people. My senses were overloaded as I was handed from person to person, practically manhandled as they squeezed and cried and clung and petted.

"We need to get out of here!" I blinked at Iceman, one of the few in full uniform. He seemed taller, older, as he motioned back toward the Blackbird. "Cyclops! Fall back!"

My ears were still ringing as I was scooped up into familiar arms, and although my shoulder was in agony, I managed to loop my arm around his neck. He wasn't all that gentle, but I didn't mind too much. And when he bounded across the desert to the rear of the Blackbird, I found myself simply relieved.

It was actually over.

"They're gathering more forces!

I stared over the top of Hank's head, rather disconnected from the whole situation, and watched as large pieces of machinery flew through the air to land near the burnt frame of a Humvee. It took me a moment to realize that they were robots; I'd seen a familiar model in the Danger Room during a session not so long ago.

"I - I cannot believe my eyes," Hank gasped, his hold on me loosening. "The Sentinel Program is operational."

**I would heartily suggest we make our exit now before things get ugly, darlings**. Emma Frost's voice, to my surprise, was a welcome change. Other than Jean and Essex, it had been a terribly long time since I'd felt another's telepathic presence - so even her cold touch was welcome. **Mackenzie, Jean - how **_**lovely**_**. Hurry along now, dears. Xavier will hold them off as long as he can**.

I watched, eyes wide, as the soldiers seemed to simply stop in place. I felt the familiar electric current in the air and knew that it was Xavier's doing and sent up a silent murmur of thanks. The rain slowed to a drizzle before it faded completely, revealing the fact that the robotic things known as Sentinels were very much still moving toward us.

We boarded the Blackbird hurriedly, Hank leading the pack. I stared at nothing in particular as he carried me to the rear of the jet and tore the shirt from my body, leaving me topless. To my surprise, I didn't feel all that exposed as he hurriedly attended my wound, injecting something warm into my bloodstream.

"It's a clean through-and-through," he murmured for my benefit as he dabbed the wound in my back with damp-feeling cloth. "It will require stitches, but there is minimal blood loss. They both look dehydrated and severely malnourished."

I watched, fascinated, as Scott led Jean to one of the benches in the rear of the jet and carefully strapped her in. He seemed dazed and bewildered and her eyes were practically glowing with emotion as his hands lingered over the straps.

I could feel her emotions through the rapport; her love and devotion toward Scott as well as her disbelief and relief. It amazed me how calm and confident she seemed after all she, after all _we'd_, been through.

**We're safe**, she whispered gently through the rapport, willingly sharing some of her warm feelings with me. **I can't even begin to thank you. If it weren't for you -**

_It's nothing_, I assured her as I shook my head, causing Hank to stare down at me in confusion. The jet shifted slightly and I grasped the bench I was sitting on rather tightly as we lifted into the air, half afraid that I'd slide around and injure myself further. The pain seemed to increase with every passing moment and I did my best to block it out of my mind. _I can't believe we really did it - I can't believe we're actually free of __**him**__ and that place._

**We are though**, she assured me, staring past Scott to meet my gaze warmly. **We are**.

"I'm going to hook the both of you up to an iv so that we can get some fluids into you. There's not much I can do as of this moment to ensure that you're functioning correctly, but I will do what I can." He scurried about and mere minutes later, both Jean and I were hooked up to ivs - fluids and, for me, a morphine drip. "Yes, well, I think that's everything. I'll see to the gunshot wound when we land at the Institute."

Weakly, I lifted a hand and rested it on his arm, causing him to stare down at me in confusion. My body was shutting down on me and I knew it - I also knew that there was no time like the present.

"Hank."

"Pet?" he whispered as he scooted onto the bench next to me, careful not to nudge my shoulder. "What is it?"

Sleepily, I leaned over to the right and rested my head on his shoulder. It was exactly as I'd imagined it and more; it was a perfect fit and seemed so right. "Let's go to Vegas in a few months."

"For what?"

I opened my mouth to reply, but found that no words would come out. A knowing smile curled my lips as I closed my eyes, slipping into the darkness willingly.


	38. Chapter Thirty Seven

**Not So Different: **I've been compared to her for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Now, she's dead and I'm here, practically taking her place amongst old friends. But, now I'm left wondering what was so different about us after all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim nor hope to have any ownership over the X-Men or any other hereto mentioned Marvel characters. I do, however, have claim over Mackenzie Benton, Aubrey Howell, Bernadette Benton, and any other original characters found within this work of fanfiction. Don't bother suing me – I'm poor and you couldn't squeeze anything out of me if you tried.

**Rating: **This story is rated T for language, pathos, and brief nudity and sexual content.

_"Look out, look in and realize_

_You always get so carried away_

_There's times and things you can never change_

_Don't get so carried away" _ _—_ Shinedown, _Carried Away_

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Chapter Thirty-Seven-<strong>_

"It's already been a week."

"So it has."

"I can't believe we're actually free."

I nodded in agreement as I leaned my head back and stared up at the dim winter sky. Sunrise was still some ways off and the chill that bit through my leather jacket was almost welcome - it helped remind me that I was still alive.

It had been a week since our fateful escape, and so much had happened.

I'd been surprised to learn that I'd been declared officially dead and had been _buried_, so to speak, at my favorite place in the world - my grandparent's vacation home on Kentucky Lake, the very same place where I'd had so many happy memories. My grandmother had promised to have the memorial headstone removed promptly, but it had been strange to learn that everyone had considered me dead.

Apparently, the building that Magneto and Arclight had attacked had been completely demolished. There were dozens of deaths and it had been a miracle, in everyone's eyes, that all of the X-Men and even Magneto and his companion had escaped - everyone except for me. Logan had discovered traces of blood, but they hadn't been able to search for my body because the building had, rather mysteriously, caught fire thanks to some idiotic former member of the Brotherhood. There had been no trace of me, physical or otherwise, so it had been only natural to assume that I'd died.

For eleven and a half weeks, the total time of my captivity, they had assumed and mourned my death.

It had been strange to call up my parents and hear their shock and surprise at the fact that I'd survived. Although they'd been more worried about the fact that they would have to return what few assets I'd left them in my will, they had seemed reasonably relieved to learn of my survival.

My grandmother, to her credit, had taken it all in stride. She'd taken to visiting the Institute from her condo in Manhattan quite often. Although it had been a bit disconcerting to learn that she and Xavier spent a great deal of time together, it had been a relief to see how simple it was to explain to her that I hadn't perished.

She, along with everyone else, had been horrified to learn what I'd endured.

What was more, however, was the shock that Jean's appearance had over the entire Institute.

Xavier had wept until he was ragged, apologizing profusely as he'd clung to our hands in the Medical Lab. He'd confessed that he'd once thought, immediately after the terrible events at Alkali Lake, that he'd sensed Jean's mental signature. But, he'd simply blamed it on stress and grief when it had been but a brief and fleeting whisper. The Professor had assumed, along with everyone else, that I had died. It was only during a routine visit with Cerebro that he'd picked up our mental distress.

In fact, if the X-Men hadn't already been nearby, the chances of our being rescued would have been closer to zero. A man by the name of Jonathon Silvercloud, who preferred to be called Forge, had contacted Xavier and asked for assistance regarding a failing group home for ailing mutants. The X-Men, having had nothing better to do, had taken the opportunity to get away from New York for awhile.

Hank had assured me that he, for one, had thought the trip to northern Nevada would have helped clear his head. Their vacation in the dry and warm desert had been cut short when a desperate call from Xavier had prompted them to hurriedly load up the Blackbird and head south.

I got the impression that no one had ever thought they'd actually find anything worthwhile.

"Is your shoulder healing up okay?"

The sling I wore on my left arm was a little uncomfortable, but it wasn't too bad. "It's healing," I murmured, shifting my shoulder experimentally. It was stiff and quite sore, but the burning sensation had faded. I didn't like taking the pain medication that Hank tried to shove down my throat at every opportunity, so I'd switched to ibuprofen - it helped to keep some of the pain at bay. "Where's Scott?"

"Getting coffee," she responded easily as she bundled herself ever tighter into the dark gray sweatshirt she wore. "Hank?"

"Same."

There was a moment of quiet, a comfortable moment of quiet, and I breathed a silent sigh of relief that the awkwardness seemed to be gone between us. We'd spent nearly four months together, four months wherein we'd been alone against the world. We had argued, physically fought, cried together, and - and we'd somehow worked over our differences.

I stared at her in amazement, wondering how I'd once loathed the woman in front of me. I'd thought her careless and resentful of her abilities and her thoughts, had considered it to be weak and wasteful of her powers. But, I'd realized that she was just fragile - not weak. She was strong and resilient, intelligent and wise.

We weren't so different after all.

"We thought we'd find you two out here," a familiar voice called from behind me, causing me to glance over my shoulder at the patio door. Hank and Scott ambled toward us side by side; Hank was already dressed in slacks and boots and wore a heavy black sweater; Scott wore jeans and boots and a leather jacket. They couldn't have looked more different if they'd tried. "Here's the coffee," Scott murmured as he sidled up, handing Jean her mug and engulfing her in his arms from behind.

I smiled in spite of myself as Hank slipped his arm around me from the right and hugged me against his side, sliding my own mug of coffee into my good hand. It felt right, perfect even, to snuggle against his side on a cold morning.

The nightmares would, no doubt, continue for quite some time. Emma claimed that both Jean and I suffered from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, and I tended to agree. But, with time and sufficient sessions with the Professor, I knew that we would both overcome our issues. Sinister had not been found and the DOD refused to acknowledge his existence or the fact that he'd been working in one of its bases. I knew, deep down, that he was out there somewhere, that he was lurking and waiting for the right moment.

It felt strange knowing that the man that had caused me such turmoil, such mental and physical anguish, was still out there and that I could do nothing about it. To seek him out would have been a sign of insanity, but to forget and ignore would have been a sign of weakness.

"A penny for your thoughts, pet?"

I blinked a few times and cleared away the hazy cobwebs that had found their way into my brain. "They're not worth that much," I assured him as I gazed up at him thoughtfully. It was still hard to accept that that I was free, that I was able to look at him, speak to him, touch him whenever it pleased me. "My shoulder is healing well."

"Though I am not as good a physician as you, my dear, I can assure you that I took the utmost care." He smiled broadly, his eyes alight with laughter. I found myself trapped within his gaze, unable to look away for even the slightest second for fear that he would disappear and that I would be trapped, lost again. Hank seemed to sense that part of me as he tightened his hold around me slightly, warming me with his own body heat. "I do hope you haven't seen the paper this morning."

"The Daily Bugle is carrying on about the two of you," Scott supplied, his voice warmer than it had been during the time Jean had been _dead_. "Jameson wrote an editorial that took up the entire second page. He's claiming that it was all a publicity stunt, a way to make the supporters of the MRA look bad and to gain support for those against it."

"That's preposterous." Jean sounded both annoyed and amused and I couldn't help but smile slightly. She was alive and had slipped back into her life so flawlessly that it seemed completely effortless. "As if we wanted to spend all that time –"

"Let's not discuss that," Hank interrupted, clearing his throat loudly. "The Professor chatted with President McKenna last night, and I met with the Secretary of Defense a few days ago. I was, once again, offered my position as Secretary of Mutant Affairs." I stared up at him in surprise, wondering why he hadn't told me. He smiled slightly, a crooked half-smile that made him look years younger. "I declined, of course."

"The MRA has been halted while your cases are being investigated," Scott added. "Good Morning America keeps calling, I'm told."

"And they can keep calling."

"I concur," I agreed with Jean, snuggling a bit more into Hank's embrace. "Scott, do you think there's a chance you could fly us back to Nevada next week?"

I felt the tension in the air and smiled to myself when I felt Jean chuckle through our rapport. Amused, I glanced over Hank's burly arm and simply stared at the picturesque couple for a moment. They looked like the Homecoming King and Queen, and I supposed they always would. Unlike Hank and I, they didn't look like a pair of misfits.

"Why?"

"Well," I murmured, sighing as Hank tightened his grip around me, "I can't help but think how fun it might be to get married by one of those Elvis impersonators. Imagine, Henry, one day telling our children that the King himself sang us down the aisle."

The man next to me stiffened dramatically before he pulled the mug of coffee out of my hands and tossed it to the ground. A startled gasp escaped my lips as he swung me slightly, swinging me so that I stood in front of him and his hands were braced on my hips. I couldn't stop smiling at his confused and somewhat terrified expression.

"And what, pray tell, is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I'm not wasting any time. I know, all too well, that there is no time like the present. Henry Philip McCoy," I braced my good hand on his forearm, enjoying the feel of his hard and coiled muscles under my fingers. "Will you do me the honor of marrying me? I'm an heiress to an impressive fortune, I'll know instantly should you ever even contemplate cheating on me, and I have a tendency to snuggle."

"Why, I thought you'd never ask, dearest. Words seem to be failing me, so I will borrow some from a very wise Chilean poet. 'I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where, I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you'," he paused and lifted my good hand and pressed it against his chest so that I could feel his heart thudding gently. "'So intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close'."

**A woman lucky enough to hear those words would be a fool to ever let the man escape**.

I smiled as Hank cupped my face between his hands and lowered my lips to his. It was warm and familiar and so soft that I lost myself in the moment, sighing when he deepened the kiss. As always, it sent a hint of fire to my stomach and enveloped me in a smooth and warm feeling of love and, I wasn't ashamed to admit to myself, a bit of lust. When he pulled away, slowly, I found myself aching to dig the fingers of my good hand into his sweater and drag him back down for more.

"I would be most honored to marry you, Mackenzie. In fact, I couldn't imagine spending the rest of my days with no other woman in this known world. You are charming, beautiful, unbelievably intelligent, warm and inviting, and so utterly irresistible." He paused, smiling so broadly that he might have been a Cheshire cat. "If you'll have me, I will honor and cherish you for the rest of our lives."

_God, I couldn't be luckier_, I sent through the rapport as I grinned, nodding cheekily. "We'll be sure that my parents aren't invited to any of our gatherings," I assured him, thinking of how my parents would treat him. "I'm sorry for – well, for the fact that you had to mourn my death. I promise to never put you through that again."

He knew, as well as I, that it was a promise I had no control over. It wasn't as if I had launched myself into my former predicament purposely; but, I would be more careful than ever before. Still locked in his arms, the sun started to slowly rise, bringing with it the dawn of a new beginning.

**You helped give us this, Mackenzie. You helped bring us back to those that would love and cherish us. I'll never doubt my love for Scott again – and I have you to thank for that.**

_You give me too much credit_, I assured her, smiling in spite of myself. _Don't forget that I expect you to stand in as my Maid of Honor. You'll look terrible in the orange gown I've envisioned_.

She laughed through the rapport, the sound warm and familiar. The warmth of feelings she sent made my stomach clench, and I found myself wondering if she'd gotten any closer to forgetting than I had.

**This is no time for such talk, but the words must be said and acknowledged. What happened will never be talked about, will never be shared. There are some things prisoners, such as ourselves, cannot explain**.

I wanted to pull away from Hank slightly so that I could meet her gaze, but I fought down the urge. _Not so long ago, I wanted to hate you, Jean. I wanted to hate how much they wanted us to be the same, how much they wanted me to take your place. And now – now I realize that while we are too different, too varied, for it to ever be true, we are also not so different from one another. _

**Times of great struggle and distress brought us closer than I ever thought possible, and I will never forget it. You gave me back my life – Scott. For that, I can never repay you**. More warm feelings trickled through the rapport and I sighed against Hank's sweater. **But you know that we cannot –**

_I know, _I interrupted, agreeing. _On the count of three_.

**This is only the beginning**.

A moment later, there was a feeling of emptiness as the psychic link was destroyed. I couldn't feel her thoughts, her memories, her feelings. Instead of reaching out mentally and assuring myself that she was still there, I simply burrowed against Hank.

It had taken me years, half a lifetime, to realize that the girl from my teen years was a friend and not an enemy, nor my competition.

We'd led parallel lives since birth and would, no doubt, lead parallel and constantly intersecting lives until death. I no longer loathed the thought of being compared to the perfect Jean Grey. In fact, I realized that I thought even the mildest comparison sounded much like a compliment.

We weren't so different after all.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** It's so hard to believe that my interesting journey with Mackenzie Benton has come to an end. I'm sure that quite a few people will have been surprised by the events the last half dozen or so chapters. I do apologize if people think that the story got off track. The point of writing this story was to explore the idea of a woman trying to take Jean Grey's place after the tragic events in X2. Looking back, I think I handled that task well enough. I think that the exploration of personal qualities, friendship, and relationships were properly handled. I hope that you have all enjoyed the journey as much as I have. (: Thank you all so much for reading and leaving thoughtful reviews. You're the best.


	39. Epilogue

_**A/N:**_I would just like to thank all of you, the readers, for continuing to read NSD and give me feedback. I would also like to apologize for how long it took me to upload the story in its entirety. It's been completely finished (minus editing) since I first started posting. And now, almost five months later, it's finally posted in all of its entirety. I do hope that you've all enjoyed the journey, the moments of laughter and tears, the moments of love and hope, and the gripping moments that helped to shape Mackenzie Benton - who will live on as one of my favorite Original Character creations ever. Unfortunately, all stories do eventually come a close, and we've now approached Mac's. She's had a good run, a long happy run. Thank you to all of the Reviewers that were kind enough to review, leaving me feeling good about something that others might see as a waste of time. I hope you've all enjoyed the ride. - Samantha

_"What can I say I've never felt this way_

_Girl you're like a dream come true_

_After all the love we've made_

_It sure would be a shame_

_If we let this moment end so soon." _

— James Otto, _Just Got Started Loving you_

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Epilogue-<strong>_

_**FIVE YEARS LATER**_

"Cookie."

"No."

Those familiar blue eyes narrowed in annoyance as I used a spatula to flip a pancake on the griddle. With the smell of sausage frying in the air and pancakes sizzling on the griddle, the kitchen seemed both warm and homey.

"Cookie?"

"No, Madison, you cannot have a cookie."

Her lips puckered into a familiar pout as she stared up at me, her blonde curly hair bobbing as she shook her head angrily. She wore her favorite green and yellow nightgown and her bare feet twinkled with bright pink nail polish – Rachel was always painting Madison's nails for her.

"I want a cookie!"

"And I want you to pick up your toys." I pointed the spatula at her and tried to ignore that quivering lip. Her angelic face made me sigh, especially when coupled with her ridiculously charming eyes. "One."

Her lips curled into a broad smile as she bounded over to the pantry and raced inside, returning with an oversized chocolate chip cookie in her hand. I watched, bemused, as she clambered up onto one of the bar stools, cookie crumbs littering the counter.

"Are you looking forward to your play date today, honey?"

"Yes," she managed between bites. "I hungry."

I smiled in spite of myself as I pulled the last of the pancakes off of the griddle and quickly turned it off. The last sausage was placed on the paper towel-covered plate by the time she'd finished her single cookie. "Madi, go tell your father that breakfast is ready."

She leapt off of the stool and scurried out of the kitchen. I heard her thumping up the stairs as I quickly set the table and got out the syrup, the butter, and the orange juice and milk. The table looked homey and welcoming by the time the laughter of my family drifted down the stairs.

"It smells absolutely delicious, pet."

He kissed the back of my neck before he wrangled a giggling Madison onto her booster seat. I watched, bemused, as he sat down next to her and put a pancake and sausage onto her plate. While I poured a small amount of orange juice into her cup, he quickly cut her pancake into small bites and doused it with a liberal amount of syrup.

"How's the speech coming along?"

"Slowly," he sighed as he settled back in his chair. His hackles were a little mussed and his eyes were glazed over with sleep, but he still looked as handsome as ever. "To be perfectly honest, I'm far more nervous about my guest slot on the Jay Leno Show."

Which was perfectly understandable.

The five years since our marriage had passed, for the most part, blissfully. While the world had continued to change, we'd grown closer and more and more in love. Madison had come along roughly two years after our nuptials, and she'd had a playmate in Jean and Scott's daughter, Rachel.

It wasn't a perfect existence, but it was as close as I thought we'd ever get.

Jean had been taken back as the Institute's primary care doctor, leaving me to invest the majority of my time in re-establishing the traveling care center, _DNA_. I'd taken on a supervisory position and worked three days a week at a free clinic in the city. The work was often demanding and tiring, but it gave me a purpose that I'd sorely been lacking. And, more often than not, Jean was scheduled to speak to crowds of citizens and Congressmen alike about the mutant phenomena, along with Hank, Xavier, and even Moira MacTaggert.

It was a hectic life, one that we relished in.

The MRA, passed a year before Madison's birth, had been amended and was on the table yet again. Hank had made it his personal mission in life to see it permanently discarded, though the recently elected President Graydon Creed and his Vice President Malcolm Concord made it more and more difficult.

The world was changing, but we remained the same.

A knock sounded at the kitchen door and the three of us looked over expectantly. I sensed her before she pushed open the door and entered the warm kitchen, her cheeks flushed and the bundle in her arms wiggling.

"Morning. Little Nate and I were just taking a walk. He's been quite fussy this morning."

I grinned broadly as she wiped off her feet and hurried over to the table to sit down in her customary seat.

While she, Scott, and their two children occupied the remodeled Lake House, Hank and I called the large tudor on the opposite end of the Xavier Estate home. It had been designed and built for us, and was perfect in my mind. Though we had dozens of other homes to choose from, thanks to my grandmother's kindness, we preferred our home near the Institute. After all, the Institute would always be a home away from home.

"Rogue dealt with Braxton-Hicks most of the night," she murmured as she unwrapped the bundle in her arms slowly, revealing a sleeping eight month old Nathaniel. Her eyes were alight with warmth and love as she reached over and snagged a sausage off of the platter. "Logan was pacing and it took the Professor's intervening to settle him down."

She paused for a long moment and glanced over at me, eyes darkening slightly. Her thoughts brushed against mine for the faintest of moments as her eyes lowered to my swollen abdomen. "And how are you doing this morning?"

"They're kicking," I murmured, dropping my hand down and pressing gently. "I want to do another ultrasound, and soon. My grandmother's been asking for more images of her great-grandchildren."

"Babies!" Madison crooned as she slung a piece of syrupy pancake across the room.

The warm laughter that bubbled out of me was both familiar and relaxing. I was nearing the last few weeks of my second pregnancy, and the twins I carried were anxious to meet the world. And, although the world still had certain negative feelings toward mutants, I was not worried.

They, much like Madison, would be welcomed into the world lovingly and held dear. They would know of their father's poet's heart, his kind and jovial laughter and his brilliant mind. They would know of their grandmother's gentle squeezes, her warm eyes. They would know the love and protectiveness of the others around them; their Aunt Jubilee, their Auntie Rogue and grumpy Uncle Logan, their eclectic aunt Aubrey who visited often with her smooth-talking longtime fiancé, Remy.

No matter how dangerous or frightful the world could be, my children, my legacy, would be kept safe.

As I glanced up at Jean and then over to Hank, I whispered a promised guarantee to the life inside of me.

One day, things _would_ be different.

"Cookie?" Madison asked gleefully even as Nathaniel woke and began to squall. "Cookie!"

"No!" three adults yelled at once as the cookie jar levitated across the room, courtesy of my prodigal daughter's lack of control. Madison caught the cookie jar and shoved her hand inside, smiling gleefully as she crushed cookies into her pancakes. "I just make them better."

When she scooped up a fork full of the concoction and offered it up for my approval, I couldn't help but smile.

_We're so lucky, Jean. So lucky._

Her thoughts brushed against mine, warm and supportive and understanding. Madison continued to eat, making roaring dinosaur noises as she chewed with her mouth partially agape. **We are**.

We had our families, our careers, our parallel lives.

As always, it surprised me to realize that I looked forward to comparing the rest of my life to hers.

She would always be perfect, regal – something I could never have lived up to. I would always be the confident one, the one that would step into the line of battle for her friends and loved ones without thought. And she would always be the one to watch my back.

We couldn't be more different, nor could we be more alike.

_**- - - - - T H E E N D - - - - -**_


End file.
